Life has been a bit different recently. When I say recently, I mean at least in the last four months or so. We moved out of our house we called a home for the past 3 years and into Mimi’s rent house, essentially as a favor to Joe and I. To rebuild credit, save money, pay extra on the car note, be able to take care of things we couldn’t afford to in the past like school for me, therapy for me, vasectomy for Joe, so on and so forth. It has taken a huge burden off of both of our shoulders and as much as I’m not use to that, I know we both deserve to finally reap some good karma.
I reached a point in the middle of December where I was just fed up. With myself, with my marriage, life in general. I had been off antidepressants for 8 months, winter blues, my partner never acknowledging the miscarriage I had in August, it all just kind of came to a boiling point for me. I knew I needed to immediately seek help or my depression and anxiety was going to win.
December 16th, I called and made an appointment to see a doctor. I bought a cycling bike for myself the following week. I sought out a therapist and got in for the first day of the New Year. Along with changing up my diet, drinking less, and making time to hang out with new friends.
Here I am, stepping into March and I feel like I don’t even know that girl I was crying, contemplating if my babies would be better off without me ‘fucking them up’ (emotionally)? I’ve lost some weight and emotional baggage, turns out both are heavy and hard to do.
I’ve gained new friends, confidence, communication skills and just the overall understanding that I am worth it. I am worth the work I’m putting in. I don’t deserve to live in constant survival mode anymore because I’m safe now.
I’m safe now.
It makes me emotional saying it out loud because I know in order to accept this place of peace, I have to completely let go of what once was. That is a scary thought. As much as I truly crave healing, it hurts to let go of that version of myself. I don’t want to forget her because that Mikah was so resilient. I’m proud of her. She went through so much emotional trauma that she didn’t deserve. From my abusive mother to my addict father. My grandparents who have always loved me on condition. My extended family who has never cared to get to know me because I am my parent’s mistakes. It was easier to lump me in with their failures than to acknowledge that I was just a kid hurting, very badly. Abandonment, loneliness, and being shuffled around was a big part of my upbringing.
Hurt people, hurt people.
I have hurt so many people because of my own insecurities.
I burned bridges, ruined friendships and generally self-sabotaged.
The Mikah I’m becoming now is trying to be mindful of others boundaries. I try to invest in my friends who have invested in me when I didn’t deserve it. I’m working on keeping myself accountable when it comes to self-care. Real self-care. Enough water, healthy snacks, exercise three times a week, more reading and less screen time (that one is hard). Being gentle on myself when I don’t get every task done, I’ve found that I set the bar too high and when I don’t reach it, I get overwhelmed and just want to give up completely. No. It is okay to have a shitty day, maybe even two. What about a whole week? It doesn’t mean I can’t pick back up, brush off my insecurities and get back to working on myself.
Depression is still going to happen while on medication and doing what I need to do, I can’t control that. What I can control is how I treat myself when I’m feeling this way. I can’t believe everything I think…I’m just now truly getting to understand what that means.
I’m 4 weeks away from being done with RDA school. Graduation day is the same day I was supposed to have my 3rd baby. Maybe he/she wouldn’t have come that day. Maybe a week early. Or a week overdue. Or I suppose, if I’m being logical, he/she was never supposed to come at all…that is what a chemical pregnancy is. Still though, I think…I’m supposed to be pregnant right now? The date is pure coincidence. Or is it? It feels kind eerie that instead of welcoming a new baby, I’m accomplishing a goal I didn’t even know I wanted. Instead I’m healing myself emotionally and putting myself first. Because let’s be honest…If I was pregnant, would I of been capable of healing? Probably not. I would have been focused on another child to raise.
I’m proud of this Mikah, too. She’s softer, kinder, capable and worthy. She doesn’t have to be resilient. In fact, I’m trying to embrace feeling all of my feelings, processing through the hard shit and making a real plan for change.
Lately if I’ve thought about someone, I let them know. I don’t like being cheesy with my words but, I know how valuable it is to tell the people around you- thank you. I love you. I needed that.
I feel emotionally lighter, sometimes I just cry not out of sadness but, maybe relief. I’m figuring out my boundaries and coming to the hard truth that not everyone will respect them, even if they do love me. I.e., my mom, dad, Joe, even my grandparents. Not everyone is as capable of seeing their own bullshit and when that happens, they will refuse to see my truth.
Here is to healing. Everyone deserves to.