It’s 2020 and I have two children. One of them is 20 months old (Oliver) and the other one is 7 years old (Noelle). I love my children with all of me, but I realized something devastating in the last year: my fuel tank is on empty. I wake up with 1/2 a tank every single morning. I pour caffeine into it to give it a quick boost all while sacrificing the healthy function of my already over stimulated nervous system. I eat foods that I know I “should” eat. Diet after diet and bariatric surgery has left my relationship with food volatile at best. I’m told to produce a housewife’s product: happy kids, clean home, tidy clothing, a satisfied husband and a lot of West Elm furniture. Very little is recognized or valued.
How the fuck did I get here?
I look at my perfect, precious children. I’m so grateful to be their mother. I look at my overtired spouse: brought up in the same dysfunctional gender rolls the promote rape culture and codependency. I look at my parents: complete narcissistic victims of narcissists. I ask myself, whose fault is this?
The truth is that our capitalistic world continues to perpetuate, even fabricate the scenarios necessary to keep people obedient, dumb and consuming. Depression is a HUGE industry now. Mother’s are treated poorly, schools are abandoned to class warfare, hospitals are run by the pseudo-gods of science and efficiency justifying the indemnification of the human being.
All of this is true and remains true. But there’s one person that I’m refusing to look at. There’s one person who is still pissed off and throwing a tantrum that Mommy medical and Daddy government isn’t taking care of me.
That person is me.
I did not create this mess but no one is going to pull me up out of it but me. And when I do, I’ll rise from the ashes like a glorious phoenix. Just as I emerged from the womb, undefeated by statistics. Just as I birthed my daughter in that tub in the middle of my living room. I asked for support but only I could birth her, no one else.
As Kelly Brogan so eloquently puts it:
“Everything you’ve ever wanted is on the other side of fear.”
― Kelly Brogan, A Mind of Your Own: The Truth About Depression and How Women Can Heal Their Bodies to Reclaim Their Lives
My health journey begins today in which I practice a radical form of self care. I recognize myself as someone who needs incredible amounts of stress reduction in the form of stillness and isolation. I recognize my sensitivity to the harsh chemicals found in food that has thrown my desperately trying to heal body so off balance that I hardly recognize it anymore. I recognize my need for boundaries, I allow myself time to think and consider. I offer my body care in the form of daily coffee enemas, detox baths, dry brushing and forgoing harsh chemicals that drain my body of it’s essence. I give myself grace and time to heal in the form of long walks like my ancestors took. Fresh water, kind words and circling with the women now and those who have come before.
I can feel everything changing, the energy shifting, the moon waning in the sky.
I can talk to you all about my diagnosis, and there have been plenty. But I want to tell you that I’m going on a journey with myself. I’ll receive lots of criticism and few will understand. I’m not here on this big journey for them. I’m in the arena for me.