Now, I just got the news my sister is currently rushing her little man to the emergency room per instructions from her family dr. He is only a week old. They don’t prepare you for this shit. And though it is not me going through this, time still stops as we all just hold our breaths as our newest family memeber perhaps is in respiratory distress.
I've got a secret. A secret addiction that I hide from everyone, including myself. A morbid curiousity of sadness that makes me unable to exist in the happiness I am surrounded by.
You are my mom. But somewhere along the line I became the nurturer. The unconditional love between us has allowed us to ignore our identities as people and to just fall into these roles that are locked in the guilt and hurt that strikes me at the core.... over and over and over again.
Happiness is a strange construct - it is an ever-distancing line in the sand that just tempts us into believing that things can be better. It's the cheap sugary cereal of the breakfast foods - it lies about being healthy, gives you a rush of sugar, and never really fills you up.
"Life as we knew it was gone" - all new parents say that and while it is definitely true, I think we leave out the most important part of that - it's not just life that changes, WE change.
It took me months to find out I was in the midst of the worst depression and anxiety attack that I had ever been in; it took me weeks to reach out for help; and then it took me months to thankfully climb back out.
Some days it gets too much. Not the crying, or the whining, or the bickering, or the constant questions. It's not the runny noses, or the cries for snacks, or the screams for attention.