Sundays have always been my bad days mentally. I’m not sure if it’s the coming week that overwhelms me or just that Sundays are slow sit around days. I always find myself struggling the most to be alright, on Sundays.
I had felt like garbage most of the day. Out of it and exhausted, I was going through the motions but not really present in the moments. I put Willa to sleep about ten and was feeling super nauseous. I puked a few times and fought with the dogs about going on and all of the sudden I was crying. And then crying harder, and harder. I realized I couldn’t catch my breath.
At this point I had cried hard enough and yelled at the dogs so Willa was awake. It’s terribly embarrassing actually, to have a full blown panic attack in front of your nine month old daughter. At one point she put her tiny little hand on my leg and crawled into my lap. Suddenly it wasn’t so bad, I could breathe again.
I don’t know how many times I apologized to her, and to Zachary, that I was what they had. They didn’t deserve the burden of someone that can’t get their shit together.
Mental Illness is brutal, in any form. It convinces you that you’re worthless, unwanted, not needed. There is no better mother for my child than me. And Zach knew what he was signing up for when I had a panic attack the second time we hung out.
Am I sometimes going through the motions? Yes.
Do I sometimes feel like a burden? Yes
But I am also important, and needed. I am wanted and cared for. And most importantly I am loved.
So yeah, I may have lost a couple days and Willa’s sleep schedule might be a disaster currently but I am surviving. We are doing a little better, and feeling a little better, everyday. I have mental illness, but mental illness doesn’t have me.
xo, Joyanna
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