The Box is Half Full

There are two parts to this post.

The obvious one, the literal one. The box is half full. Whether it is A’s toy chest or book shelf, it is finally half full. Because for every 5 things she removes, she now puts one or two back. She has been obsessed with removing things for a few months now, whether it is her toys from the box, her books from her bookshelves, or laundry from the laundry basket, pots and pans from cabinets, spoons from dishwasher, you get the endless idea here. Yes, I have been waiting fervently for the time where she just as obsessively starts putting things back (in the hopes that some of it is where it belongs and less clean up for me). So Yay!! We are kinda there.

The other one may also be kind of obvious, the box is half full as in the glass is half full. It is not half empty. I am trying very hard to look at positive things in life, to focus on the happy thoughts. For A’s sake, and a little bit for my own sake. It is very hard for me to admit, very difficult and I dont know how or where to begin but I know I have reached a point where I have to. I have to admit it to myself and maybe to more than myself that I need help.

For years now I have flirted with anxiety and touched depression. Infertility does to you right? Being in the Infertility Closet and not admitting the extent of the issues to anyone IRL does a number to you too. I didnt really find the Inferility Community on Twitter till the last year or so of my journey, before that I felt very alone and very wrong. It makes sense that my wake up call comes when I find myself withdrawing from that same community. It is not intentional but I find myself withdrawing anyway. I check my feed less and less and I convince myself it is because I am busy.

After the move, I dont really have friends or family around. I love my husband and I know he loves me but I know he doesnt really see or maybe I just hide it well. I tried telling him I need help but I dont think I said it well enough. He is a problem solver, and I am not ready to be a “problem” that needs solving.

I cant help think of the questionnaire that my OB-Gyn asked 6 weeks after C-section. Was I depressed? I laughed in my head and maybe out loud. I was too sleep deprived to be depressed. A’s new pediatrician had a similar questionnaire and I asked myself again, but I told myself it was the move. Am I depressed? I feel like if I am not sure than I must not be.I keep telling myself, it is hormones, it is the lack of sleep, it is the move, it is where I am in my monthly cycle because Progesterone makes me crazy. I tell myself that I have always hated dressing up and make up, I have always hated shopping. However, outside of my child I dont think I have an identity anymore, I dont think I have a thought about anything outside of her anymore, which is fine. I am not ungrateful, I know how hard I worked to have her and I am happy that my world revolves around her. To be honest, I even want to be better for her.

I come from a culture that believes in being stoic, a stiff upper lip, chin up… you get the idea (Different post different day). I was raised to soldier on, my husband often tells me we soldier on, I believe I should soldier on but I cant help thinking on some days I am too tired to soldier on, to fight alone because I am not sure I am worth fighting for.

No matter how many ways I explain it, I know that in the end it doesnt change that I need help.

I am always surprised if people actually read my blog, so I write here for me. This is my secret place where I think no one is listening, no one is reading, no one is really judging. So I am going to say it here first,  to myself mostly. I need help.

I am going to start by trying to focus on the positives in life. I am going to pretend that maybe it is my Vitamin D level that is wonky and take my vitamins more diligently. I am going to hope that I can fake it till I make it, because I dont want A to remember anything but smiles from her childhood. I am going to make more of an effort to reconnect on Twitter and hope to start from there.

Maybe eventually I wont wince in pain when my phone rings and find excuses not to answer, maybe eventually I will have more than a “hey!!” with IRL friends that are too far away to see the facade in those emojis. Maybe eventually I will look in the mirror and smile at my reflection. Eventually the joy I feel around A will feel real and not just masking fear.

The box is half full and I am just going to cling to that thought and go watch netflix now.

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One thought on “The Box is Half Full

  1. I completely relate to so much of what you wrote. It is incredibly difficult to have a child as your constant companion when there is no adult conversation to balance it out. Being away from family and friends and to rely on online friends is difficult. In person contact makes such a huge difference – but now I have gotten to the point where it takes so much energy to even meet people in person. I signed the girls up for tumbling and an art class just so we get out of the house twice a week. Can you see someone? Get a regular doctor and talk to them about it? Sending lots of hugs. ❤️

    Like

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