Today, I hit a wall. With my partner away for eight weeks and my 8-month-old waking every two hours for the last week, I finally unraveled. I often feel stretched thin, but this time it felt like everything disintegrated, and I couldn’t keep up. I locked myself in the bathroom for a few minutes—twice.
Feeling overwhelmed, I reached out. I called my husband, a few close friends, and my mom. I even contacted my counselor and the early childhood center. I was exhausted, defeated, and lost, carrying an unbearable weight on my shoulders.
After two hours of phone calls, I managed to schedule a counseling session, an appointment at the early childhood center, and arranged for two friends to come over this week.
Every time I spoke to an intake officer, they asked if I had family nearby to help. My answer was always a mix of yes and no, followed by a wave of sobs. Yes, I have friends who feel like family, but they all have their own lives—jobs, kids, responsibilities. It’s not as simple as just dropping everything to come to my aid.
As I sit here, battling the relentless voice in my head, I remind myself to let the emotions flow like cars passing by, observing them without judgment. Thank you to mindfulness techniques for teaching me this! I return to my daily meditation practice and seek that soft space in my heart where I can extend compassion to myself.
Postpartum depression affects one in seven mothers, but I honestly find that hard to believe. I suspect the number is much higher. Many of us suffer in silence, and as I share my experiences, I discover more mothers who confess to feeling just like I do at some point.
I’m on a journey to mend the frayed seams of my spirit, feeling exposed yet determined. I’m reaching out, reflecting inward, and trying not to judge myself. I’m healing, one deep breath at a time. I find joy in dancing in the kitchen with my kids and taking walks on the beach with friends.
I remind myself and everyone around me that I am not Superwoman, and I don’t aspire to be. I am strong, but I also need support and love. I can manage my work, care for my family, and embrace my feelings—whether they’re laughter, tears, or moments of vulnerability. I can pull myself together and keep moving forward.
So please, stop calling me Superwoman; it doesn’t help, and it’s simply not true. And to every mom out there, let’s collectively ditch the Superwoman facade and embrace our humanity.
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In summary, navigating the challenges of postpartum life can be overwhelming, but recognizing our needs for support and compassion is essential. Embracing our vulnerabilities can lead to healing, and collectively rejecting the Superwoman myth allows us to celebrate our humanity as mothers.
Keyphrase: postpartum depression
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