Okay, so motherhood is not what I expected.
I thought as a mom my depression would be gone. I thought I would be personally fulfilled.
I was wrong.
Nick suggested I try enjoying the anger I have—anger at having my life and freedom taken away. Express my hate loudly. Then maybe I’ll come to acceptance. Don’t deny the hating of motherhood. I hate the responsibility. I hate the mind-numbing tedium. I hate the not being able to have a conversation with the person I must spend my entire day with.
I hate being a mom. I hate having to take care of someone else instead of me. I hate picking up toys that I just picked up twenty minutes ago. I hate it all. I hate it. I hate it. But I’m afraid if I go back to work fulltime that I’ll hate that even more.
And I hate the word hate. I don’t want Genny to think I hate her because, obviously, I don’t. I love her to smithereens. I just hate this new life I’m living. I don’t even remember what I like anymore or who I am or was.
My friend Rebecca pointed out today that there are also many good moments and experiences I have with Genny. It’s good to be reminded of this. I know that it’s true. And I don’t know what I would do without all my wonderful momma friends that I’ve made here in Jackson Heights. They help keep me sane.
I am going to see a hypnotherapist for the second time tomorrow. I will hopefully be much happier when you read from me this time tomorrow.
I know I’ll make it through this wave of low feeling. I always do. And I have so much to be thankful for. My friend, Clover, and I used to go to this Interfaith church in the city, after the service we’d walk along 57th Street singing, “I am as God created me.” Then we’d end up in a diner for brunch where we’d go through the alphabet naming the things we were grateful for. We were developing “an attitude of gratitude”.
I am grateful for what beginning with the letter “a” tonight?
Hmm, aromatherapy. I think I’ll take a bath and sniff something flowery.