As many of you know I had to quit my job and become a full
time stay at home mom when we lost the use of our second vehicle. At first it
was great. I got a lot of cleaning done and was able to spend some time with my
son, but then the depression set in and I began using my #sahm as a way to deal
with the harsh reality of feeling stranded and alone in my own home. I have
clinical depression and Seasonal Affective Disorder, so I was anticipating
feeling depressed. I could not have imagined the depth of it.
It wasn't long before felt myself slipping into a role that I had previously only reserved for my “Winter Dad.” (Summer Dad is a whole other story!) He was the dad who made sure I was fed, clothed, and cared for,
but rarely smiled, or laughed, or spent time with me. He slept or sat in front
of the TV for hours, and was either short tempered, or emotionless.
As an adult I was able to understand (logically at least)
why he behaved that way, but it was not until this year that I felt it. I too became short tempered
with my son, I would spend hours on the computer, scrolling through Facebook,
just to escape. I often slept in, leaving my son to entertain himself, and I hated myself for it. It was a cycle that had no escape. This winter I became the same shell of a person that my dad became in winter or when he was out of work.
We have more in common than I ever thought we would.
I have learned a lot about myself this year and it was not a pleasant experience. There was denial, grief, and anger as I learned new shortcomings,
as I accepted that another child just wasn’t an option for our
family, as I discovered that I am not the woman I dreamed I’d be if I "didn't have to work." I had the chance, the opportunity, the time, but I
still could not become something that I am not.
I still hate my
limitations, but I have learned to accept them. Depression is not who I am, just as motherhood is not all I
have. This year I have learned that for my health and wellness, to best love and care for my family, I simply cannot
be a stay at home mom. Ever.
I am a persnickety little plant so unlike many wonderful, resilient people I know, I cannot bloom wherever or whenever I am planted. I wanted so badly to be a perennial, but I am a winter annual. And that's okay.
Last week I re-enrolled my son in daycare and filled out
the paperwork to go back to my part-time job. Not because I need the money, but
because I need the release. And I am grateful for the luxury, privilege, and
freedom to do so.
I have so much respect for parents who stay at home and love
it. I have respect for those who stay home because that is what the
family/child/budget requires of them. I respect those who choose to work
because they love what they do. And I have respect for those who break their
hearts each day they hand their child to someone else and go to work because
they have bellies to fill and little fingers to keep warm. It’s never easy, no
matter where you are planted, but I hope that if you can’t flourish where you
are, you will have the strength and good fortune to find somewhere that you can.
Finally, on the topic of Mother’s Day, I’ll begin by saying
I don’t like it. My family doesn’t celebrate it. Being a mother is who I am,
whether I like it or not; forever. I don’t need a specific day for my partner
to cook, clean, and take care of our son. He does that (at the very least) for three days straight every
February when I go to a writing conference. I don’t need a special day to get
gifts. If he sees something he knows I want, he just gets it for me, and I do
that same for him.
As for my own mother, she deserves far more than a day. She
never hesitated to buy me a new pair of sneakers when the old ones were too
small or falling apart. Even when they were the fourth pair in a year and we
really couldn’t afford it. She put me in dance lessons to let me be the star I
always dreamed I’d be, and she dutifully attended and recorded every recital. She paid my way through
math lessons so I could gain confidence and learn to believe in myself. She was
there when I (barely) graduated High School, her unwavering diligence the only
reason for my success. She was always there when I was hurt emotionally or
physically, and no matter where she went, I knew I had her love.
I do not need a calendar to remind me to tell my mother that
I love her. I tell her every time I say goodbye, in case it’s the last. I don’t
need a special day to buy her gifts. If I see something I know she wants, or likes,
or needs, or simply reminds me of her, I get it for her. No matter where she is, she
will always have my love, and when she is hurt, emotionally, or physically, I will
go to her. I will not hesitate. She never did, and I owe her that much at
least.
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