[Video Reading] Sunday morning musings of a mentally ill Mama.

On reading a vulnerable piece on motherhood at a live event called "Listen To Your Mother, Howard County."

Last month, I had the awesome opportunity to read one of my essays aloud to an audience of around 120. To answer the initial prompt, I combined two of my previous essays on motherhood, submitted them along with a video audition, and was selected as one of ten storytellers for the event.

Check out the video and full essay below.

I’m Not Enjoying This Season of Motherhood;

Sunday morning musings of a mentally ill Mama.

The other day I found myself googling “Am I spending enough time with my toddler?” And surprisingly, it is a common question. According to sources, the sweet spot of time toddlers need direct interaction and playtime with their parents is two hours. Depending on my mood, and her behavior, that amount of time feels like not enough or too damn much.

The mom guilt I feel while parenting when I’m in a depressive episode is worse than the normal guilt that usually accompanies my depressed moods.

I don’t want to not be alive right now, but I’d love to be able to not exist in deep sadness for a moment.

I’m struggling to sleep, I feel helpless, and I can’t escape the constant melancholic thoughts that consume my brain. But my three-year-old doesn’t know that. All she knows is that she’s up, hungry, ready to play and mommy is in her room and still sleeping.

“Wakey wakey Mommy, I want fruit!” She excitedly says while darting into my room and jumping on my bed. And now I’m lamenting over the fact that I have to get up and feed her when the only thing I want to do is stay under these covers.

I get up, give her breakfast, and return to my bed.

A short time later I hear “Mommy I finish it!” and know that’s my queue to drag myself out of my bed again. I release her from her chair, help her wash her hands, and walk her back to her room where I immediately turn the television on and then escape to my bed once more.

Back in my spot, the guilt eats at me and scolds me for being a terrible mother and not playing with her. It reprimands me for not giving her morning cuddles and love, or not at least laying in her room while she plays so that she sees that I’m there with her. But then I know she’ll want me as an active playmate and I’ll inevitably become agitated that she’s a toddler doing toddler things and I’d feel even worse than I do now if this causes me to lash out or lose my temper with her. This day, two hours feels like too much time.

She has a birthday party for a classmate later today and I start to cry thinking about how much I dread having to put on a happy face and pretend I’m not empty inside. I could make something up and just tell her friend’s mom that we’re not feeling well. But, I hate to be THAT person who cancels last minute, especially for events needing a headcount.

This leads me to become angry with myself. “No more masking, you said! Advocate for yourself, you preach!” But the people pleaser in me who I thought was dead is actually still holding on, barely clinging to life, and she taunts me.

Reminding me of the disappointment I feel when someone says RSVPs yes to something I’ve prepared for and then don’t show up. It is then that I know that I have to pull myself together and go. Besides, how can I honestly say “Hey, I accepted your invite when I was having a much better human experience but today I’m struggling to get out of bed to care for my child and surely can’t subject myself to being in a loud environment with a bunch of 3-year-olds while painfully making small talk with friendly moms who appear to REALLY love this shit.”

I wish more moms talked about mothering woes. The world judges you if you don’t exclaim to love and enjoy motherhood. I think so many mothers would be better off if they had an outlet to say “This shit is not fun, my kid(s) drives me nuts. I don’t love this right now and I would love an extended break away from them. I need to spend at least two hours playing with them but how can I without losing my shit when they’re regularly losing theirs?” Admitting this, though, opens up a floodgate of judgment and admonishment for not always doing this shit with a smile on your face and gratitude that you successfully procreated.

Lately, my three-day weekends away from my Sweets have been some of my favorite times. I can regroup and not be SO on edge. I mean, I’m always on edge. It’s just that the intensity increases when I have to calmly parent an irrational little tyrant. Add in adjusting to new meds, starting a new job, and still struggling financially, my terror—I mean, toddler seems to send me over the edge internally more than most of the current stressors in my life.

Of course, I don’t feel pride in feeling this way, but it is my truth, and I am doing the best I can while still being Mother of the Year.

I must admit, though, her excited “MOMMMYYYY!!!!” when she sees me after being away for a few days melts my heart and I will treasure those moments while I still have them because I know there might come a time in her life when she is not so excited to see me and that’s okay too.

She won’t remember much of anything from this period of her life so I’ll continue working on myself mentally and emotionally. That way, my moments of irritability and need for not so many touches and hugs do not translate to feelings of not being loved or wanted when she can remember. And so there aren’t too many 24-hour periods that go by where she doesn’t get the two hours she needs from me. After all, she did not ask to be here and she did not choose a life of part-time solo parenting while mentally ill—I did.

I hope in the future we grow to have the kind of relationship where we can joke about these times and I’m able to tell her about these moments without hurting her feelings. And if she decides to become a mother one day, I will be there to remind her that these moments are normal and okay, especially if she struggles mentally like I do. And if you grow up and watch or read this, my Sweets, know that I love your entire existence. You just irk me a bit right now.

Note: I am happy to report that though this was a recent essay, I wrote pieces of it some time ago and am no longer feeling this way.

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