Again, I will say, motherhood is a strange beast.
Having a child is incredibly rewarding, to be sure. I’ve never experienced more love and laughter in my life. But, for me, it’s also been a very insular, lonely experience. I have my mom, my aunt, and sometimes my cousin’s wife, but they are the only motherly shoulders I can lean on, the only people around to put my worries in perspective. Even then, I’m often afraid to let them in on the things I really worry about. And I have nobody to blame but myself.
I’d been warned well before I even got knocked up that having a child would force me to deal with my own issues, and somehow I thought I was immune. Actually, I didn’t think I really had issues that needed “dealing with.” Or rather, I thought this would only extend to my daughter’s personality — I was moody in high school, so my kid will probably also be moody, and I’d learn how to deal with it, end of story.
Instead, this is all just making me realize things about myself that I’m not comfortable changing, but are getting in the way of my own needs. If I continue on this path, motherhood will surely turn me into a basketcase, and as much as we’re hoping to have another kid, I’m not sure I could emotionally handle it.
I had a breakdown last night while researching doctors we could visit in LA. The three of us are low-needs as far as health is concerned (knock on wood, Kenahora pu-pu-pu, etc. etc.), but Hugga unfortunately has the genes for bad teeth. I know on the spectrum of Terrible Things That Could Possibly Happen this is, like, nothing, but the way I’m dealing with it, you’d think we were about to lose our home, or worse scenarios that I don’t even want to say.
I’ve really tried to focus on being excited for this move — I’ve waited for it for so long — but when I get to dealing with scary things like health care and emergencies, I’m reminded of all the reasons why we moved back to CT in the first place. My early pregnancy and being alone in the emergency room was a horrifying experience and is still so fresh in my memory… Will it really be worth it to give up all that theoretical support?
This is how easy it is for me to get lost in little things. It’s not even a side-effect of the move, because I’ve been stressing about Hugga’s dental visits since last year long before I’d even cosigned on leaving. In a way, it makes me less scared about leaving because I’ve been as lonely and as anxious as ever back in my hometown.
I was up at 2 am crying last night, feeling really tempted to wake up Huz to talk, but instead I just laid there. So often I’m still too embarrassed to let him in on my anxiety, and I forget that we’re in this together. I internalize, I imagine myself dealing with all of the scary things alone, and I have panic attacks or emotional breakdowns in the middle of the night. This is something that happens no matter where I live, no matter how happy I am, no matter how good my life is. I’m hard on myself and I lose perspective easily.
For a long time I’ve known I had issues with trust and letting people in. This is something I have actively been working on in my relationship with Huz, but it’s a systemic issue. I have no friends I’m comfortable calling in a time of need, even here in CT. I have very few people I’m comfortable hanging out with on a lazy day, and even many of my cousins have fallen out of that category in recent years. Every time I want to reach out to someone, I hold back in fear that this person will judge me or tell others all about my shortcomings. For as much as I let out on this blog, I sure do have a lot of trouble being vulnerable in real life. I won’t allow people to help me. I keep em at a safe distance at all times, even when it’s not so safe to do so anymore. I wonder if this is a direct side effect from growing up in my family, or growing up on my own blog.
Motherhood has only exacerbated this problem. I’ve never been more fearful of people judging me, going behind my back and telling others I’m doing the wrong thing. And yet I’ve never needed the companionship of a good friend — another mom who knows exactly what I’m going through, from the fear, to the judgment, to the exhaustion, who can give me a little perspective when my world seems to be spinning out of control — more than I do now.
I always used to pride myself on being independent and sort of a hermit, of not needing the support of friends to live my life. But at my age I can honestly say, things can be kind of shitty without the company of good friends. It’s harder to recognize your blessings when you’re afraid to celebrate them with the people around you.
[Addendum: Immediately after I published this post, I stumbled upon Tweetage Wasteland, which is essentially about the psychological effects of living your life online. It's simultaneously become my favorite blog and the most depressing thing I've read all year.]
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