Mom Guilt is the WORST!

So here I am...

sitting on my sofa, feeling like crap, pretending to have an "upset stomach" because heaven forbid I be seen in public looking "normal," albeit looking like I need to wash my hair. All because I am too anxious, too panicky, too nervous, too worried, too fearful, too guilty, too angry, too ashamed, too frustrated, too resentful, too pissed off to be seen in public by people who know me. Ugh!

So here I am...

almost eight weeks after having a "breakdown." I've called it a few different things...mental collapse, mental come-apart, spiralling out of control, whatever. It's all the same thing to me. However, I really like the term "spiritual awakening" as I learned when reading Brené Brown's book The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are, that my therapist recommended I read. Spiritual awakening is more of a "cup half full" way of saying "I fell to the bottom of a well, can't see the light, and no matter how much I try to claw my way out, the well just seems to get wider."

So here I am...

having massive amounts of mom guilt while my wonderful and amazing husband took our two kids to their very first Christmas concert. In fact, it's the first time they've ever been on stage in front of a crowd. All I can seem to focus on is that I am missing it. They aren't as upset as I thought they'd be, probably because I cannot think of anything that I've ever really missed that 100% of moms are expected to be at. They bought my pathetic story of having an upset stomach. Mom guilt. It's honestly the worst. I don't think dads get "dad guilt" nearly as much as moms get "mom guilt." I don't know, maybe dads to get it from time to time too.

So here I am...

constantly watching the clock....5:59PM, the concert is to begin in exactly one minute. My son, age 9, came home from school today very nervous and pleading with me to not make him go to the concert. With lots of cuddles, encouragement, and a bribe of playing Minecraft before bed, he went, and he went seemingly happy. My daughter, age 7, is the one that rarely gets nervous and loves being in front of a crowd. It's 6:01PM...the concert has begun. I worry about my 9 year old that he doesn't get a stomach ache...which since he takes after me, will highly likely get out of anxiousness. Oh My God 6:02PM, time is a standstill.

So here I am...

diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) since my early 20s with a smattering of panic disorder and obsessive compulsive disorder, although never formally diagnosed with the latter two. Now in my early 40s, diagnosed with complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). I can't even have just "regular PTSD," I have the complex kind. Typical. My therapist would say I am "catastrophizing," and she's probably right. Anxiety has been a part of my life as long as I can honestly remember. I thought I had it under control (with the help of meds) until it reared its ugly head once again almost two years ago. Anxiety would pop up every now and again, and I'd remind myself of all my strategies I once learned in group therapy way back when. However, a year ago, those strategies stopped working like they once did, and eight weeks ago, I hit rock bottom with anxiety and panic attacks so bad I didn't want to leave my bedroom.

So here I am...

after nearly eight weeks of therapy, prescription changes, forcing myself to exercise with my good friend who pretty much makes me, meditation, reading as much as I possible can, and writing, I feel like I am slowly putting my life back together. My best friend says I am so good at being vulnerable. I say if I can put a face to mental health then so be it. This blog is to empower all the women who are faced with mental health challenges, faced with the judgement and ridicule, faced with the facade of being perfect, and faced with the constant guilt of not being enough. This blog is for all the women, who like me, felt the need to put on their armour daily to face the world. I am starting a revolution.