Lipstick Days.

posted on 01/22/2013 by 10 Comments

 

I found it rolling around in my makeup drawer, clearly forgotten – at least two years old.  I turned it over and read the label at the bottom.  ”Smitten” was the color.

I don’t wear lipstick.  I never really have.  I could never handle the pressure of having to reapply, and to this day have not found a color that looks better than the color of my own real lips.  It felt foreign to open it up… slowly run it across my lips… I even smelled it.

I heard my son begin to cry in the baby monitor, and cursed myself for the very little amount of writing, or cleaning, or personal grooming, or anything I got done during this hour to myself.  I paused for a second and looked at myself in the mirror.  My lips were smitten but my eyes were dull.  I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, keenly aware that I had no place to go and nothing to look forward to besides the next room to get the baby and to pick up my other son from school.  If I was lucky, I could also fit in a visit to the grocery store.

 

This bout of depression is particularly murky.  I’m not “sad” or “blue”.  I just feel settled into the idea that nothing feels good.  I feel far away from my kids… my husband… my wants… my dreams.  Sometimes I’m angry and resentful… but most of the time I just don’t care.

It’s been a couple weeks in this place.  I know what triggered it, but can’t seem to climb out of it.

I barely had the energy to command my hand to put that tube of lipstick to my face… but I needed it.  It felt slightly weird… and colorful… and frivolous.  It helped for a little while.

The next day I wore a skirt and I went to visit a friend.  That felt good for a little while too.

I know I have good things in my life – my brain knows this.  I know I have a million things to get done.  I know at some point I’ll feel better.

But right now, I can’t see my way to fixing my insides…

a few things on the outside are about all I can muster.

But it’s something…

it’s an attempt…

and I’m talking…

and I’m open to a few more lipstick days to come.

 

JenniChiu

 

 

DiorLipstick.jpg

 

 

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posted in I Don't Understand My Brain, Life tagged with , , , , , , 10 Comments

Bittersweet Amazingness. (The ghost of PPD)

posted on 10/02/2012 by 16 Comments

 

His deep trusting eyes look up at me, and he grins the slightest grin.  He nurses in silly happiness at my breast while I caress his foot.  This is our moment.  This is our moment of relaxation in the midst of our chaotic life.  This is our moment of connection.  This our moment where he tells me how happy he is to be my baby.

He demands a lot from me.  He needs to be close.  He needs to explore… but only if I’m near.  He needs to feel my heartbeat several times throughout the day.  He has my love, my attention, my soul – every ounce of me.  He demands it.  He demands the acknowledgement that he was inside me, that he is a part of me, that we are tied.  It’s exhausting… and marvelous.

I look down at him as he pulls himself close to me… he smiles – milk spilling out of the corner of his mouth.  He will be a year old  this week.  How is this possible?  Has he lived outside of me for that long?

He looks inquisitively at me and puts his hand on my chin.  I know he knows I’m thinking something.  We communicate so often even though he has no words.  The gesture is so unbelievably tender that I cry a little.  I cry because of the thick sweetness of it.  I cry because of this titanium bond I never knew could exist.  I cry because I feel guilty…

for not having felt this with my first son.

It was my postpartum depression… later my postpartum psychosis.

My firstborn is four now and quite an amazing child.  I feel we truly began to know each other around his first birthday.  He is my heart beating outside of my body, but sometimes… in the quiet moments… I wonder if I cheated him.  I know him.  I know his heart… the winding path his thoughts take… but I didn’t then.  We have an amazing bond – we truly do, but I wonder how much stronger it would be if it had started earlier?  This was a question I had not asked myself until my second boy.  I did not know it existed.

I am truly struck by the amazingness of fully experiencing my infant as a mother.

It is bittersweet…

this primal attachment between mother and baby…

because I’ll miss it in the future…

and I’m missing it in the past.

I’m trying to move forward in joy…

while holding hands with regret.

 

 

 

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posted in Featured, Life, No funny today tagged with , , , , 16 Comments