Here Comes a Cat 5 Hurricane (Alisha)

 I am truly on the verge of losing my proverbial shit. Yes, I said it. Do you know why? Because at this point, the word poop just doesn't adequately express where I am in life. I have Post Partum Depression again. Yes, again. I had it with our first child & that is exactly why I didn't want anymore children for almost four years. I was good with our middle son & then --- boom! The roller coaster starts back up with our third. Yep. 

There, I said it; OUTLOUD. For all the internet to hear. The first step is admission, right? I have been struggling in secret for months & as I said above, about to lose it. No, I won't cuss again so you can uncover your ears & relax. I'm stressed enough for all of us. 

And I do mean all; as in, every single person I've ever known and I've known a lot of people. I moved around a lot my whole life up until I started having kids ten years ago (almost). 

To say that I am completely overwhelmed would be a huge understatement. There is nothing in this world like PPD; nothing. Just like with parenting, everybody's got suggestions on what you they think I should do & how I should fix it. 

If you haven't had PPD, here's what you can do: 

take a long walk off a short pier & shut your face to me because Miss Congeniality has left the building & I don't want any passive aggressive suggestions disguised as advice. 

PPD for me is filled with anxiety, tears & isolation. Three things that are so not me. Well, tears are, because I'm pretty emotional but waller-in-my-own-self-pity-tears aren't. 

I'm breastfeeding so it makes it a hunnerd (yes, I meant to spell it that way) times worse. I had to go buy a can of formula the other day to supplement with. I didn't want to. In my mind, if I can't feed her, I'm a bad Mom. I know that I'm not but, that's how PPD works for me. It makes me feel inadequate as a Mother regardless of whether I am or not. And clearly, I'm fabulous, so I'm not. Ha! 

That's just it, I'm feeding her just fine. Well, aside from the raging hormones that make me want to yell at everyone with a giant lion roar while crying a river that I'm drowning in. Nutritionally, she's fine; emotionally, I'm not.

I made the statement the other day it would be a good day for a relapse if I weren't so far into this life of recovery. I'm working on a decade yo, I ain't got time for no dope. Nope. 

If you and I aren't close enough for you to come up & say to me, "I wondered if that was what's wrong with you," you'll know we're not that close when you're picking yourself up off the ground. Like I said, Miss Congeniality left the building. 

It was not easy for me to share this with the world. Not easy at all because there are a lot of people in this world that think you should just "get over it" and like I've said before,

the only way out is through...