It’s funny, I always wondered why mums had post natal depression. You have a beautiful new baby, some women would give their right arm for a child, so what is there to be depressed about? You come home from hospital with your bundle of joy and the house is full of flowers and visitors and Dad is home on paternity, the grandparents practically move in and the neighbours drop in a casserole. Your 4 year old is whipped away to McDonald’s so you can have some peace and your reassured the school runs are taken care of for the week. Bliss! Then a fortnight later everyone stops calling, Dad's back at work and you can’t wait to get back to “normal.” Except normal isn’t normal anymore because now there’s another person in the mix. A person who needs you 24/7. Which is fine except your 4 year old needs you too. At first you carry on as you already know how, your well placed routine, but that doesn’t work anymore, but you know you can do this. Next door does it, umpteen mums at the school do this hell the woman opposite has nine children this will be a breeze!
Yoda says, “Always two there are…a master and an apprentice,” in The Phantom Menace.
The thing I have noticed as I have gotten older is how crazy the holidays make us. They have become so stressful that they have lost much of their joy. This year that rings truer than ever.
I don’t go outside. I don’t hang out with friends. I don’t have a social life that is not supported by the internet. But this is all on my own choices. The problem is I don’t like going to my aunt for permission. I know there are plenty of parents that are harsher and this article/story may come off as a privileged child's complaints.
I’m 21-years-old and I live with my parents. And let’s be honest, there is nothing ideal, fun, sexy, or cool about it.
I remember the feeling that was left in the very pit of my stomach when leaving a dear friends house – Something. Is. Wrong.
I remember waking to my mother’s screams, and believe it or not, it was not an unfamiliar sound. It was December 12th, 2005, in five hours my sister Sammie would be born. The third sister whose birth I would get to witness, and the one I would never forget. I had been waiting the past nine months for this moment and now it was finally here. The excitement shot me out of my bed like a tiny eight-year-old cannon. I sprinted to my older sister’s room, the sound of my feet slapping on the cold hardwood floor echoing in the hallway. I jumped up on her bed in hopes of being the one to wake her and share the news but she wasn’t there, I was disappointed with the realization she had woken up before me.
PS. This is not my tree. My tree doesn't look anything close to this good, and the star fell off. I found this image on Google, so whoever took it, good job.
Honestly, I have led a very mild life in general. I've never really experienced what the world has to offer, as I've been fairly content with just staying in my little controlled and comfortable world. I've had the opportunity to experience some once in a lifetime events though:
I grew up in a house where songs such as "Stand by Your Man," "Substitute," and "Jolene" were seen as containing valuable words of wisdom. They were played daily on one of our two cassette players- in the kitchen or in the car on the way to school. The message was clear: if you were lucky enough to "bag" a man—no matter what kind of man and by what means—then you must do anything to keep him. You might not love him, and he might not love you, but as long as you had one that was yours, nothing else mattered.
Today is one of those days. My head is congested and I feel a fever brewing in my chest. On top of my current health status, I have lost pretty much everything that holds you together as an adult. Well let's see—I got really behind on my rent payments so in August I moved back in with my mom. Ugh, yes. See our relationship is not the greatest (story for another day). And last night, I woke up to my Jeep, (that I was super proud of myself for being able to get almost two years ago) honking the alarm in the distance as I realized it was getting repo'd. It's the end of the month, and my sales haven't been the greatest for November. And those damn NSF fees keep taking my money and the commissions don't pay out quick enough. All around yes, it is a shitty situation.
I’ve been holiday-crazy since I can remember. It didn’t matter which one—Christmas was my favorite holiday, just like Halloween was my favorite, just like Thanksgiving, Easter, New Years, my birthday. I reveled in the overwhelming joy at Christmas, the excitement of Halloween, the hearty appreciation during Thanksgiving. Conversations got deeper, people got sappier. It was an excuse to love people loudly and without reserve.