There’s something to be said about surviving a trauma. You see the problem with it is, the trauma in its infant stages is fresh, on everyone’s mind. Your friends, your coworkers your family, your in-laws. They mostly, seem to get it. And much like when you bring a baby home, everyone is all warm and fuzzy over you and asking how the baby’s doing and asking how you’re adjusting.

Then. Well, it gets to be life as usual and the baby is a little older and on social media you look like maybe you got over the hump and you’re good and killin it. You even may have hosted thanksgiving or a birthday party and it looked like business as usual and everyone forgets to ask if you’re still doing ok. How the baby is. Ya know? So follow me.

So then, when the party’s over, and everyone is gone, your left with that surviving a trauma thing. Grief, depression, whatever you want to call it. It was born from a trauma and that trauma gave you a baby. Whether you like it or not, this baby, is now yours to get to know, feed, and nourish it and take good care of it. This is what trauma is. It’s a new piece of your DNA, brought to life via (for me a death) depression or anxiety and the lack of being able to explain why you’re like this now.

And here is the hard truth. Not many people CAN understand. They will want to, oh my God will they want to try and learn this new you. But the worst part is, you’re learning her too. And learning her is hard. And learning her without a set of parents, with three children under the age of 5, with the seasons changing in life and everywhere else, learning. Her. Is. Hard. And the pain sometimes brings your insides to a slow burning boil, and down to your knees in a heap of infant like emotions on the kitchen floor. And the tears roll hot and heavy down your face, onto your neck and into your sweatshirt. The tears are the echoes of love, the abandonment of strength, and sometimes weeks of pent up frustrations. But those tears are painted with promise. They stain your face with a new blueprint in how to navigate the sadness and overcome the stagnant waters you just released. The tears are the most supreme release of love and hate. Patience and doubt. The tears have washed your insides clean.

I pride myself on my mental strength. But as tough as I am, I am healing. Healing an entire lifetime of learned behaviors and guilt and trauma. And healing is ugly. Messy. Healing is disturbing and sad. And inside all those same words, healing, though fleeting for me right now, is so fucking beautiful in some moments.

So. Coming from a girl who was told to start zoloft one short month ago, I say – fuck that. And I also say, it’s ok to feel like you’re not ok. And feeling? It sucks sometimes. Especially the way a woman knows how to feel. Especially a woman who is mothering without a mother. I have navigated all my life’s trials without any medication and though this is not to bash anyone who needs a pill, or a drink, or a puff puff pass every now and again; I’m here to say I am zoloft free but heavy on the therapy these days. Heavy on the talking about something bothering me to its death. And then after its death into the cemetery 😂 because FEELINGS, manifest inside of us, and if you let the bad ones stay, you’re as good as DONE. And if I have something lingering around inside my head that shouldn’t be there, I talk til I can let it go.

Now again, I have no disrespect for anyone who pops a Xanax, or meditates, hits the gym, indulges in a flight of whiskey at happy hour on a Sunday, whatever it is and however it looks for you to feel healthy, mentally – I say DO IT. But for me? I’m gonna hit my lifeline and earth angel Margie for some mental health aerobics. I do it for myself. I do it to be a better mom. To be a better wife and sister. To continue to live this legacy I’m trying to build. And I do it because every day I am surviving. The loss of my mother. The loss of my father. And anything and everything those losses have affected inside my pocket of the world.

But don’t get it twisted, my kingdom, the one that sits on a little piece of land in upstate NY. This kingdom that has three little children whose minds are being molded and shaped by my husband and me. This little special kingdom of mine will forever be protected. Fiercely. Boldly. Loyally. And with a heart pounding, heart breaking love, I can just never seem to get into words.