I have written and rewritten this post at least five times. Then I got sick with one of those evil little stomach bugs and haven't been able to think about anything except sleep for the last four days. Now here I am, reading what I last wrote and realizing I need to rewrite it. Again.
I guess this is a harder post for me.
Ready for RID Post #2?
When I made my first post announcing this crazy RID List, I had labeled this category as "Motherhood." A few different tongue-in-cheek friends asked me if I was planning on getting rid of my kids (you know, because I am "ridding" myself of these things...) I just replied with a good chuckle, then sat back and thought.
No. I did not think about actually getting rid of my kids.
But I did realize this post was about more than just motherhood.
I am a mom. In fact, my main job is being a SAHM (stay-at-home-mom.) I always knew that once I had kids, this would be my career. And boy is it a career. I cherish every moment and never want it to stop, but at the end of each day I usually find myself happy that that day is over.
When you are a SAHM, your life revolves around it. You are a teacher. A chauffer. A school volunteer. A chef. A maid. A doctor. A tutor. A coach. An artist. A historian. An alarm clock. A displinarian. A friend.
You clean more than you sit. And just when you are done cleaning you have to clean again.
You never stop. Ever. Ever ever ever.
This sure does test you.
The idea of "me time" disappears as soon as you first hold their little hands and kiss those chubby cheeks. You sacrifice so much, but it is so worth it.
Like I said, I love this job and wouldn't trade it for anything. But the total sacrifice of yourself does something to you. And for someone like me, it can really take its toll.
I don't talk about it much, because I don't feel like it needs to be flaunted. I don't try to get pity or special treatment. I know I am not the only one. I am not going to dive into it too much, because this is the internet and the exact details of this battle are personal. But it is something that really does control my day to day life and does need to be acknowledged.
I know, I know. An author who suffers from depression? Such a cliché.
I have been battling issues with depression since middle school. I have never been into an actual doctor to get the "real" diagnosis. And I cannot bring myself to turn to medication to "fix" this. It has just become a part of my life. A dark, scary, all consuming monster that randomly flares up and tries to take me with it.
Sadly, this word has also become a stigma. Something people roll their eyes at or freak out about or just plain don't understand. Because of that, I don't want to acknowledge it. I don't let myself see that it is there. It isn't really there.
So I let routine take over. I am Super SAHM and that is all. My kids need me, so I give them everything I have. Then I lay in bed at night and lose myself.
That's what happened. That's the reason I disappeared. I let the craziness of motherhood, the darkness of depression, the busy ways of life overwhelm me. And with that, I stopped writing.
I don't have the time. I don't have the drive. I am tired. I would rather veg with a binge watch than sit and write because come on, I'm not that good at it anyway so why should I waste the time?
Yes, that's where my mind goes.
And I hate it.
I have learned something though. Yes, depression is a part of me. But it is not who I am.
I daily have come into the habit of reminding myself of this. (Along with trying to live a healthier, more active lifestyle and totally diving into the doTERRA oil craze.)
Depression isn't my truth. These are my truths:
1. My life is great. Yes, I am a stay-at-home mom. I chose this path. So I cannot let it get me down. I have two amazing sons. A husband I love more than anything. A home we adore, friends that are just right for me, family all around. I am lucky. My kids test me, my clean home falls apart. But life is good and I cannot let my thoughts sway that truth.
2. My writing is great. It is normal to doubt yourself. Especially when in the depths of editing or accidentally stumbled upon a rather nasty review. But at the end of each day, as long as I wrote something, my writing is great.
3. I am great. I am worth it. I am worth everything. I am not nothing.
I cannot just rid myself of my depression. But I can stop letting it control my life.
When I write, I feel free. I feel the weight lift off my shoulder. And I need to stop stopping myself from that therapy. I need to write. It is my way of life. It is so awesome seeing so many other authors out there saying the same thing, feeling the same thing, escaping and healing the exact same way. We are a strange breed. But here we are.
I am writing. And it sure does feel good.