Feeling Touched Out
I never knew how much I needed to be alone until I had my son. If I’m being completely honest, I did not realize how much alone time I needed until my son was about six months old. Up until that point, everything about motherhood was fabulous! I loved nursing my son. I loved being the one who could soothe his woes. I even loved being the one who changed his diapers.
That was until I didn’t.
Around the six month mark was when I began to feel the weight and responsibility of being a new mom, with little familial support.
**Sidebar: So often when I’m blogging, I feel like I can’t always be my authentic self because I don’t want to offend my husband or paint him in an unsupportive light. I want to address RIGHT NOW that my husband is the most amazing, supportive husband who would do and does whatever he can to make sure that our lives are fulfilled. However, there are issues and feelings that I deal with as a woman and a mother that 1.) My husband can never fully understand and 2.) I need to work out on my own…When I say that I lack support, I’m referring to insufficient, extended family support.**
We had just recently moved and had gotten settled into our new life when reality set in. For me, life went from, “Wow! This is adventurous and I can’t wait to see where life is going to take us!” to “Wow. So this is my life now, huh?” Moving from the South where the iced-tea is sweet and the people are sweeter, back to the Midwest where there’s no sun for at least, AT LEAST 5 months out of the year and the people are so-so. How do people do this?! Live here AND enjoy it? Don’t get me wrong, I can make any place ‘home’, but sheesh!
Anywho, it’s fall in the Midwest and the rose-colored lenses that filtered my view of motherhood had been removed and I started to feel overwhelmed! During this time, the thought of nursing my son instantly pissed me off and the thought of my husband touching me absolutely made my skin crawl. There were times when I didn’t even want to take a shower because the thought of anything touching me literally made me sick to my stomach. It got to a point where I think I was unpleasant to be around. It was in that moment, or should I say those few moments, that I knew I had to do something. I had to take responsibility for how I was feeling and make something shake. I could not successfully continue on the way I was going.
So, just last week I got serious about my mental health and decided to seek therapy. It’s neither my husband nor my child’s fault that I am feeling touched out. Nor is it their duty to cheer me up when I’m feeling that way.
If any word, line, or phrase resonated with you, I encourage you to save and share this. Until next time, I love you.