No, I’m Not Okay.

Why am I not able to transfer what’s going on in my head into words? It’s because I want this to be perfect. If the baby wasn’t crying and asking to get up on my lap for the hundredth time today, and the four year old still took a nap, and I didn’t have three loads of laundry to do, then maybe I would have a second to concentrate. I haven’t eaten yet today. Why is my heart starting to race again, and why do I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest. I just need five minutes to breathe.

One of the most difficult things for a mom to do is let themselves be vulnerable. I’m not sure if it’s society standards, how our brains are hardwired, or hormones (cause we blame everything on hormones, right?), but for some reason, we have the hardest damn time letting our guards down. We feel like we have to have our shit together at all times, and it’s EXHAUSTING.

Something that I have never publicly spoken about is my own personal struggle with anxiety. I’m not sure if it’s because I was ashamed of it, or because I didn’t know how to express how I was feeling, and put it into words, but I do know that I’m ready now.

For me, anxiety was never something I had ever struggled with before. Sure, I had my moments here and there, but I can pinpoint the exact moment I realized that something wasn’t right. It was just about two years ago, and I was pregnant with my daughter. We were in the process of boarding up the windows in anticipation of Hurricane Irma, and preparing to evacuate to a family member’s house when I had my first panic attack. I remember feeling like I couldn’t catch my breath, and feeling so helpless. I had a million thoughts running through my brain at once, and I couldn’t help but focus on all the things that could go wrong at that exact moment.

As time went on, I had a few more panic attacks, and once I gave birth to my daughter, I felt those moments of feeling “out of control” becoming more frequent. Naturally, I blamed this on the post-partum hormones, but eventually I realized that my anxiety was becoming a problem that I could no longer handle on my own. I found myself overwhelmed so easily, and often times, I would be in tears for the dumbest reasons. This feeling of helplessness, of panic, of fear was affecting my job, my role as a mother, my marriage, and my ability to cope with everyday life.

I can remember one incident so clearly. I was taking my daughter’s “monthly” milestone photo because I HAD to get the perfect shot to post on social media, on the EXACT day she turned five months old because GOD FORBID I was a day late. (This pressure that we put on ourselves regarding social media and how we portray our lives is a whole other story for another time. LOL). She wouldn’t sit still, or smile, and every shot I was taking was blurry. My son was trying to impede on the photo shoot, and I was yelling at him to back away. It was taking forever, and I knew I had a full day of work ahead of me. I felt like I was spinning out of control, and that I couldn’t possibly handle one more second of this kind of stress. Finally, I just collapsed in tears, and had a moment of clarity.

I just had a panic attack. Because of a frigging monthly photo I was going to put on Facebook.

Trust me, I know how ridiculous that sounds. Looking back, what I realize now is that it wasn’t about the photo. It was about me trying to figure out how to balance two kids, a full time job, being a wife, and my own mental health. I would lie awake for HOURS at night while my brain would just race thinking about ALL THE THINGS. I was biting my nails again. I was letting this anxiety rule my life because I was keeping it bottled inside and wasn’t seeking help. The thing is, to admit I needed help meant that I had to admit I had a problem. Every time my husband would ask me if I was okay, I would put a big smile on my face and say…”Yes, I’m okay.”

Why? Why is it so unbelievably hard to admit that we are not okay? Why is it so hard to admit that we need help and to let ourselves be vulnerable? I am a perfectionist to my core, and I have a very hard time with letting my imperfections show through. I’m not afraid to reveal that I DO CARE what people think of me, and I worry endlessly at night about whether I’m a good teacher, a good mother, a good friend, a good wife. Sometimes, I think that when people say “I don’t care what people think of me,” it’s straight up bullshit. We all care. It’s in our nature. ESPECIALLY Moms.

Once it dawned on me that I was letting my own head and fears get in the way of truly being happy with myself, I realized that I needed to make some changes. Lemme tell you, that was a HUGE pill for me to swallow. After finally sitting down and REALLY talking to my husband, we made some decisions to explore our options, and take control back.

I will do a follow up post on some ways that I’ve learned to control my anxiety, but I will tell you this. It’s okay to be vulnerable. It’s okay to go outside without makeup on. It’s okay if your kids stay up past their bedtime. It’s okay if you feed them Easy Mac and Pringles for dinner one night. It’s okay if you don’t check off all the boxes on your to-do list. It’s okay if you haven’t lost the baby weight. It’s okay if you need to get out of the house for a few hours to roam around Marshalls BY YOURSELF. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to seek help.

It’s okay to say, “No, I’m not Okay.”

Until we start speaking up, we will never be able to remove the stigma of mental health. As moms, we owe it to our kids, our partners, and most importantly, ourselves, to be happy. I will always struggle with anxiety, and I will always struggle with my own perfectionism. The thing is, I’ll be damned if I’m going to let them control me anymore. Don’t be afraid. Speak up. You aren’t alone.