All I Wanted Was a Shower

The house is quiet, and I am once again alone with my thoughts. I should be snuggled in bed, listening to the sound of my 2 month old’s little breaths, but I am sitting alone, in the dark, in my living room, wide awake, and wondering when my spouse will take the time to ask me how my day was, or stop for two seconds to realize that just because he worked all day outside the house, doesn’t mean his work ends at 5pm. It would be nice to feel like a team, but instead, I am captain, co-captain, and engineer of this ship, and it’s headed for an iceberg.

I can’t help but get emotional as I type this. I feel so lonely, even though I interact with others all day. I FaceTime my family, text my friends, and play with my beautiful daughter for hours, but I feel like I am walking this path alone, and it sucks.

My husband complains constantly about being tired, and while I understand he works a demanding job, and he genuinely is tired, he never stops to think that when I ask him to help me with something, I am running on minimal hours of sleep, and I don’t want to hear, “I’m exhausted.” I ask him to do so little, and yet tonight he can’t find an ounce of energy to do any of the things he’s been asked to do, in fact, he fell asleep, and left me alone to do everything again, which is beyond frustrating.

All I wanted was a shower!

Seriously….I told my husband when he came home that I really needed to get a shower, and would like for him to take the baby for a while, so I could freshen up, and feel like a decent human being for a change, so why, at midnight, am I just getting out of the shower!?…..I’ll tell you why…..because my needs come last!

I feel like I am a single mother half the time. It’s hard enough dealing with a fucked up brain, and forcing myself to get through the days on depression energy, but then to feel like I am doing things alone……it’s a slap in the face. I am the one who wakes up during the night, I am the one who is feeding, medicating, and doing all things baby related, (which is fine), and I am the one cooking the meals, doing the laundry, and making sure the bills are paid. I am not complaining about these things, I am just saying it would just be nice to be acknowledged for the job I do without complaining.

This isn’t a bash your husband post. I love my husband, and I know he loves me. It would just be nice to feel that love a little more. It would be nice to be hugged, thanked, and asked, “how can I help you?” It would be nice to have him offer his time a little more. It would be nice to feel appreciated, instead of feeling like a bitch for having an attitude when my slightest request gets forgotten, and I end up doing it myself. It would be nice to get a shower after dinner, rather than waiting until midnight, when everyone is asleep. It would be nice to have some help. It would be nice to be able to hand the baby to daddy, while mommy takes a much needed breather, but that rarely happens, and it’s overwhelmingly stressful for me.

I end this blog post with heavy eyes, restless legs, a crying baby, a snoring husband, and a shred of hope that things will get better soon.

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The Bipolar Bitch

I have contemplated writing this post for weeks now, and every time I started, I would end up deleting it. I’m pretty sure I was just scared at the perception of it all, because I tend to pour my heart out when I write, making me vulnerable, which has always been a scary feeling for me.

I’m just going to say it…..8 weeks postpartum, and I still feel like shit!

Any new mom would most likely say that they take advantage of those hours during the night when their baby is sound asleep, and they can finally shut their eyes for a few hours and catch up on their own desperate need for rest. I do enjoy my sleep, but my brain has a mind of it’s own, no pun intended!

Four nights ago my body decided it didn’t need sleep, and I was wide awake, at 1:30 in the morning, scrolling through Pinterest, Reddit, and watching stupid videos on YouTube. I finally got up and cleaned the house, which included scrubbing toilets, doing dishes, doing laundry, and mopping the floor! At first I welcomed this burst of sudden energy, after all, it was about time I started feeling something other than extreme tiredness, but then I realized what the hell was going on, and knew this energy and happiness wouldn’t last.

My manic periods have never been insane. I don’t see or hear things, and I don’t think I can fly, or doing anything else grandiose…..I just have a lot of energy, and feel like I can conquer the world with my ambitions; I am super happy, positive, and full of life.  The high only lasted three days, and those three days where the best three days I’ve had in a long time. I cooked, the house was spotless, I had energy, I could laugh, I felt alive, and it was good to just feel, “normal,” for a change. I am just gonna say it….. I LOVE BEING MANIC!

Now I am back to feeling like the world is caving in on me. I feel like a horrible mom, who can’t even play with her kid, because I am too tired to function. My life has turned into a Groundhog Day routine, and I hate it. I wake up, just to repeat the same shit day after day, and it’s miserable. Oh how easy things would be if “focusing on the positives” could actually change anything…NOPE… I still wake up with the same fucked up brain chemistry, and a desire to feel an ounce of long lasting happiness day after day. 

FUCK YOU BIPOLAR DISORDER, YOU NO GOOD PIECE OF LIFE ALTERING SHIT, I WISH YOU WERE A PERSON SO I COULD MURDER YOU!

I know postpartum depression can rear its ugly head even worse for those who have prior mental health issues, but for some reason I continue to always think those statistics don’t apply to me. I am also stubborn, so my goal is to always deal with things on my own, even if I know how it’s going to end.

I am agitated, angry, irritable, numb, and have lost pretty much all enjoyment in anything. I’ve lost my appetite, find it hard to climb out of bed, and snap at my husband for every little stupid and annoying thing he does.

The only solution….FUCKING MEDICATION!!

I was on medication prior to pregnancy, and weaned off when I found out I was pregnant. I was doing great during pregnancy, and had no issues, other than the normal pregnancy hormones. My doctor assured me that my issues would return once I had the baby, thanks for that ounce of confidence doc! I was hoping that my brain would be so mesmerized with all the chemical changes postpartum, that it would forget all about how messed up it used to be.

I hate taking meds. It’s a constant reminder that you’re sick and can’t handle shit on your own. It’s a visit every 3 months to the doctor, where they ask you the same annoying ass questions:

Q: have you had any thoughts about hurting yourself?

A: Yes No

Q: how are you feeling now?

A: Numb inside  Good

Q: you would tell me if you were having trouble right?

A: No! Of course

It’s a constant adjustment in medication doses, which increases the already annoying side effects, which then in turn makes you need another medication to counter act the first medications bullshittery! Oh and my favorite are the judgemental nurses who do their intake questionnaires and ask you about why you are taking said medication, and you have to say the fucking word BIPOLAR to them, which is nothing far from horrifying, because then you feel the need to have to explain that you don’t have the kind that makes you go bat shit crazy, or homicidal, but rather the milder version that makes you just feel like shit 24/7, with an occasional, short lived, Mary Poppins moment.

I’m just tired! I am tired of my brain’s inability to filter out the noise, especially when I could use a quiet moment. I am tired of the intrusive thoughts that constantly flood my brain like Hurricane Katrina. I am tired of being broken, and feeling hopeless. I am just simply, TIRED!