rivka | (no subject)

I don't interpret dreams, as a therapist, but sometimes even I have to admit that my subconscious is talking to me with a twenty-foot-tall neon sign. Last night I dreamed that mice infested our fridge and chewed holes in the bags of breastmilk I have stored in there. There you go: most of my current inadequacies rolled up neatly into a two-minute dream sequence. Our dirty house, our mouse problem (of which I am incredibly ashamed), pumping, Colin being okay while I'm at work...

I don't know why I've been treating this like a secret, but.

I have a postpartum anxiety disorder. It mostly manifests as intense feelings of guilt, shame, and inadequacy, with a lot of focus on other people probably thinking I'm horrible and some tendencies toward obsessive thinking.

I am in treatment, and coming up on the point where the Prozac is supposed to kick in.

Right now it's very hard for me to use my LJ. I'm pretty caught up in the inside of my head, and the last thing I want to do is write about that, but the truth is that whenever I think about posting something I picture people disapproving of me or judging me for it. So I'll post about the kids because it's a safe topic and then I'll think that most of you probably despise me for being so wrapped up in my children that I've erased my own life from my LJ, or else you think I'm a horrible mother who puts academic pressure on Alex because I posted about teaching her to read, and I could write about the new nanny but then what if she leaves like the last one did and that just proves what a failure I am and... well. You get the picture.

I feel ridiculous even saying all this but that's where things are with me right now.

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You get the picture.

The anxiety is busy tying you up in a web of can't-do-this, can't-do-that until you can't do anything? That's the only picture I get, and it looks like you're working on it.

This is your LJ. As far as I'm concerned, I won't judge you unless you start writing about the Rainbow Monkeys coming to take you to Happy Cloud Land, where you will eat chocolate-chip coral and drink treasureberry wine. (Or something like that.)

Hear Hear! I couldn't have put it better, myself. Dear Rivka, we're all here for you and will be happy to listen to anything you decide to post. If it's important for you to share the crap inside your head, please don't hesitate to do so. In fact, sometimes getting that crap outside your head and onto paper, or a computer screen lessens it's impact. I've often found it that way for me. If you feel it's too private, slap an F-Lock on it. or even create a TOP SECRET filter of your closest friends and post the worst of it to that.

(Not meaning to hijack or in any way make less of the rest of this post & the supportive comments -- more wanted to acknowledge that a comment can make a difference to someone even in passing. Given my own history and family, I have a lot of... sympathy for this and am glad R is coping.)

... the Rainbow Monkeys coming to take you to Happy Cloud Land, where you will eat chocolate-chip coral and drink treasureberry wine.

Dammit.

Now that sounds appealing.

Wildly appealing right about now.

Er... is it ok with you if *I* want that?

Wanting it is fine.

However, being absolutely convinced that it's going to happen, and you'd better pack your bags because they'll be here next Monday? That would be cause for concern.

However, being absolutely convinced that it's going to happen, and you'd better pack your bags because they'll be here next Monday? That would be cause for concern.

Ah. You could color me concerned.

But you could also color me envious. :/