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I ran away.
I ran away from a wonderful home, 3 gorgeous children, an incredibly
supportive husband and extended family.
The children I ran from were 5 and under, the youngest being only 6
months old. I ran away.
Post Partum Depression, it’ll do that.
Funny thing is, my brain got oddly rational
while I had PPD. You see, I’m a fibre
artist, mainly a hand spinner. Yarn and fibre were my only means of escape, so
during nap time and that precious hour between putting the big ones to bed for
the night, and when the little one woke to eat, I would spin. It was my escape. But things became overwhelming. Post Partum
Depression hit me like a freight train.
It was all I could do to remain normal and calm on the outside. I know people saw me struggling to balance 2
rambunctious boys and a brand new baby who was in a lot of ways my most
difficult infant. She refused to breastfeed, despite a month and half of trying
and trying unsuccessfully. She spit up
always. The boys just kept doing their
monkey thing, climbing the counters, pulling out the Tupperware and pots and
pans… But I’m not sure they realized the
depth of the struggle. I was
overwhelmed, and my hormones were super outta whack. It did not help that I was not ready for
this. I had been preparing to get an IUD
to prevent another preganacy for a short time.
Hormonal birth control didn’t jive with me, made me anxious, and all
over the place emotionally. So IUD it
was going to be. And then, despite
precautions, I was pregnant again. I peed on a stick the day before the
appointment. Double lines. Damnit. Now, please don’t take that the wrong
way. It wasn’t that another child was
unwanted, it was just that another child was something I wanted to delay, so
that I could enjoy the time with my little boys. They are, after all, only little for so long.
We are talking they were 3.5 and 1.25 ish when I got pregnant again. This is probably where it started. And a doctor probably should have picked it
up at that first appointment, make a note that the momma wasn’t ready. Flag for depression. But it wasn’t flagged, I dealt with it all
alone. And sometimes, when you have to
deal alone for so long, you just need to leave.
Breastfeeding was that one thing that
teathered me to my boys. I was stuck (in a good way) as the only source of
nutrients. It made me needed. When it didn’t work with my lovely little
daughter, it was like a knife. She
didn’t’ need me. She needed someone to make her bottles, and anyone could do
that.
So, When I found a week long spinning retreat,
I used it as a perfectly good excuse to run away. Education!
A very legitimate reason to leave.
I actually had a day long argument with my husband that resulted in a
lot of ugly crying on my part. It wasn’t a ploy, it wasn’t a tactic to get him
to push over. It was raw and real
emotion. He did end up agreeing. And I foisted my 3 small children on my
parents for a week. There were 2 months
between my registering, and my leaving, and I had plans. Secret plans. How much money was in the bank? How far would
that get me? Can I live on that for a
few weeks until I found some kind of job?
What is the best way to hide, and not be found?
When the time came, I definitely took that course I’d planned to. I wasn’t crazy, I wasn’t about to waste a bunch of money. I rented a townhouse room. When you do that at this retreat, you get random roommates. My roommates were nice, kind and wonderful. Interacting with humans that were self sufficient was a beautiful thing. I could get used to this, I thought. Their courses were just a few days, where mine was a whole week. I ended up in that townhouse alone for 4 nights. 4 very quiet, very lonely nights. Through conversing with one of my classmates, it turned out that she was also alone. So on the last night I had her over for dinner. We talked about our kids, we talked about life, and talked about everything and nothing, and she said I made great food. As the sun set, she left for her townhouse, and I was left to sit alone in mine, marinating in the wonderful things I’d just said about my family. And I began to truly miss them. I came to my senses. I couldn’t leave them.
I think the universe sometimes does these things to you, to put you on the path you should be on. I had ran away, only to be reminded of what I was worth. That even my presence alone was enough. And as much as they didn’t really “need” me, I really actually needed them. So I went home.
When the time came, I definitely took that course I’d planned to. I wasn’t crazy, I wasn’t about to waste a bunch of money. I rented a townhouse room. When you do that at this retreat, you get random roommates. My roommates were nice, kind and wonderful. Interacting with humans that were self sufficient was a beautiful thing. I could get used to this, I thought. Their courses were just a few days, where mine was a whole week. I ended up in that townhouse alone for 4 nights. 4 very quiet, very lonely nights. Through conversing with one of my classmates, it turned out that she was also alone. So on the last night I had her over for dinner. We talked about our kids, we talked about life, and talked about everything and nothing, and she said I made great food. As the sun set, she left for her townhouse, and I was left to sit alone in mine, marinating in the wonderful things I’d just said about my family. And I began to truly miss them. I came to my senses. I couldn’t leave them.
I think the universe sometimes does these things to you, to put you on the path you should be on. I had ran away, only to be reminded of what I was worth. That even my presence alone was enough. And as much as they didn’t really “need” me, I really actually needed them. So I went home.
The positive thing that came from this
whole thing, aside from the knowing that I needed my family, is that I found a
passion. I spin yarn, and while that in
itself is a little odd, and out of the ordinary, it’s a passion. I know more about yarn and fibre than your average
person should. What started as a
perfect excuse to run away turned into a livelihood. And while the depression was scary and hard
to take, and drove me from my loved ones, it was a blessing. I still suffer from depression, but I can
feel the lows coming sooner. I can do what I need to, to make it less awful,
and am open with my husband about when it’s going to hit. I don’t think I would have gotten here, if
it weren’t for that episode of PPD.
If you are suffering with PPD, or any other
mental illness related to your role as a mother, please check out this
website: http://www.postpartumprogress.com/frequently-asked-questions-on-postpartum-depression-related-illnesses
I wish I’d have found this when I was
living through this. It seems like an
excellent resource.
Much love, and much light.
P.S. Pictures of yarn! What saved me from self destruction ;) All hand spun on a spinning wheel, a la Rumplestiltskin.
