First off, it’s not even Sunday. And self care should be a priority EVERY day. But it’s a catchy title, no?
After Sam died, I struggled big time with depression. And on top of that, we got pregnant with Oliver which further upended all of my hormones. I remember making it to my twelve week checkup, and having a total meltdown as soon as my OB (the most amazing woman ever) walked in the room.
I ugly cried. And I told her, in between sobs and wiping my running nose on my sleeve, that I could not do it anymore. In hindsight, I should’ve asked for help earlier. No one should ever have to suffer through depression, and I absolutely did not have to do deal with all of that on my own.
I prioritized my husband, his son whom we had temporary custody of, my children. I was last on the list. My cup was bone dry. I remember telling a girlfriend I felt like I was under water, with a tiny straw in which to suck air in to breathe, and often times someone would take my straw because they needed it more.
So after I emotionally vomited all over my sweet doctor, I started taking an antidepressant and made it a priority to speak with our family therapist (we had weekly blocks scheduled with her, and would rotate everyone through both regularly and as needed).
Little by little, I started to feel better. Granted, I was still riding my pregnant emotional roller coaster, but I didn’t want to drive my car into the lake anymore so it was definite progress. It took all of my energy to grow a human, work, take care of the kids, and keep the house clean. I felt like I was only chest deep in water. Again, progress.
After Oliver was born, I continued on my medication and meeting with my therapist. My hormones chilled, and things were a little better. And then Mike left for Air Force training, and I felt submerged again.
I made myself a doctor’s appointment the day after he left, and told them I needed help STAT. I filled out my postpartum depression questionnaire honestly and did not hold anything back. And, even though I should’ve been placed on a hold for my own safety, was allowed to leave a little while later.
I dumped everything that I had been carrying for the past year at her feet. Things that I didn’t even think mattered came spilling out. I’m not sure if I finally cracked, or if I felt free to cry for help with Mike gone. I love my husband SO much, but caring for him after Sam’s death was unbelievably draining. I carried all of the weight for our family. And, to be honest, barely cared for myself because I just didn’t have anything left.
My doctor and I came up with a plan. It was so simple I was almost offended. I started a few supplements, went on a healthy diet, made a commitment to get twenty minutes of exercise each day, and started a gratitude journal.
Now, let’s pause right here for a moment, because I think this was the most important tool we added to my toolbox that day. I’ve heard people preach about gratitude journals before, and even my therapist touted about writing down things I was grateful for. Hell, every night we went around the table at dinner and had the kids tell us one thing they were grateful for that day!
I went through the motions of being grateful because that’s what I was supposed to do. I didn’t know that when you consciously focus on the things that you are grateful for, you literally reprogram your brain to be happy. Mind. Blown.
With intention, I began my gratitude journal. Sometimes the only thing that I could think of to write was that I didn’t burst into tears that day.
Little by little, I went through the steps. I put healthy food in my body. I didn’t drink alcohol. I exercised, even if I could only get ten minutes on the elliptical. I slept. And, I worked on my gratitude journal. That was the biggest joke of all, but I did it. I went through the steps. And, eventually, I trained my brain to be positive. And it flowed over into the other areas of my life. I smiled. I enjoyed having breakfast with the kids, or going for a walk. I wanted to leave the house again. I listened to positive podcasts, read self help books. I filled my head with so many positive things that there was no room for the negative.
Self care is important. I neglected myself for so long, and I did so because I thought putting others first was what they needed. Let me tell you something; you can’t pour from an empty cup. Taking care of yourself HAS to come first, so you can take care of those around you, so you have something meaningful to give them.
Prioritize your mental health, friends. Self care isn’t pedicures and wine tastings and retail therapy. It’s meal prepping so you have healthy fuel for your body. It’s declining to go to happy hour so you can clock your 7-8 hours of sleep. It’s sticking to your budget so you can get out of debt. It’s letting the important people in your life know what they can do to help you.
Go to therapy, if only to bounce your thoughts off someone else. Friends are great, but they love us so they may not let us know when we’re in the wrong or need to chill. Most companies offer free or discounted counseling services for employees, which is phenomenal. Health insurance should cover mental health services just as they do well visits, but that’s a topic for another day.
Take care of yourself. You’re the only you you’ve got. And you’re the only you everyone who loves you has.
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