A year ago yesterday I hit bottom. Hard. I scared the shit out of my friends and my family and could have left my children without a mother. A year ago today I was checked into a psychiatric facility where I spent 9 days getting my meds sorted out. We thought. 3 weeks after that I did it again.
I put everyone through so much, even my online friends. I scared people. I scared myself. And I got help. And then, miraculously, I got pregnant. Finn saved my life. I believe that.
A year later where am I? Well, every day is a struggle. I'm not sure that will ever change. Because I was pregnant and now breastfeeding my meds are not where they could be. And because I'm tired of being overweight because of them. I'm terrified of working but desperate to get out of the house. I haven't cut since that night a year ago, but every day I think about it. I want to do it. But I don't.
I want to be numb and hopped up on benzos most of the time. But I'm not. I want some freaking time to myself, but as a SAHM to the boys, right now that doesn't happen, so I find ways to get the me time I need, even if for just a few minutes.
More than ever, my kids are my reason. They keep me going. I can't let them down. I don't want to let them down. I take a deep breath and remember what miracles they are, how blessed we have been. And I hang on for one more day.
Do I hope that things will be less of a struggle for me in time? Absolutely. I will get there. But I am so much better than a year ago, though some days it doesn't feel like it. But I am. I know I am. I just have to remind myself of it sometimes.
I can transcend my illness. I AM transcending it. I can be more than it.