Hope in a Phone Call at PPD to Joy

One evening in August I finished dinner, found something to entertain my son for a while, and picked up the phone. I dialled in to the PPD SpeakEasy, not knowing who would be on the line but knowing it would be largely women I had never met and (mostly) never will. And it was one of the best, most loving, most supportive conversations I’ve had.

I’m sharing the rest of that experience (and this post) on PPD to Joy today. Please come and visit!

 

Postpartum Depression to Joy

 

Yael Saar lost her mother to postpartum depression when she was 6. Years later, when she had kids, Yael struggled with PPD and almost followed in her mother’s footsteps. She survived her suicide attempt and went on to become a silly-side-up mama on a mission: to disarm postpartum depression and anxiety by removing guilt and shame from parenting. Yael served as a national suicide prevention hotline volunteer before she started sharing her story (with coping skills on top) at www.ppdtojoy.com. She is @yaelsaar on Twitter and you can also find her on Facebook.

Yael hosts a monthly ppd support phone chat called the PPD SpeakEasy. It is free, confidential, and loving. This chat happens on the 2nd Tuesday of each month at 8:30pm Eastern. In September, to celebrate her birthday, Yael will be holding 3 SpeakEasy chats. Mark your calendar: in addition to the usual 2nd Tuesday evening call (Sept.13 at 8:30 pm) extra chats will be held on Sunday September 18 at 2:00pm, and Tuesday September 27 at noon (all times are Eastern). The intention is to cater to the needs of mothers with varying lifestyles and time-zones.

For more info and sign up for the call visit Yael’s SpeakEasy page.

 

 

 

Stronger Than Cancer

Her hair is falling out already.

After only one chemotherapy session, her hair is falling out.

After being diagnosed with breast cancer, she stepped up. Stared it down. Took charge.

She had surgery.

Just do it. 

This next step is no different. Chemo is taking her hair and she’s willing to lose it all. But on her terms.

Status: I am shaving my head this morning.

An outpouring of love.

You can do it. You are more than your hair. You are beautiful. SO PROUD.

I smiled.

Good for her.

And then she posted pictures.

In the first one, a stylist tackled her long blond tresses.

She did it on her terms.

In the second, her hair was mostly gone. A curtain framed her face but otherwise only stubble remained.

On her terms.

My heart swelled with pride.

You look like the badass you are, I said. So incredibly proud of you for posting these photos. SO, SO proud.

Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it.

I’m not sure I’m brave enough to post the next one, she said

You are, I told her.

You are brave enough. Go and look in the mirror – sans wig – and really look at yourself.

You are not your hair.

You are your eyes and your smile.

You are laugh lines.

You are your hands – the ones that hold your child.

You are brave and beautiful.

And your hair has nothing to do with it. 

Her hair has nothing to do with it.

She’ll wear a wig, because she has a little girl – only three, her birthday is one day after my son’s – and little girls don’t understand cancer.

The wig will make a lot of things easier but, when she looks in the mirror, sans wig, I want her to know:

She is strong.

She is beautiful.

And her hair has nothing to do with it.

***

She’s doing an amazing job loving herself through this, but if she stumbles we’ll do it for her. 


(I heart Martina.)

 

Last week we had 36 people link up an enough-themed post in our Be Enough Me for Cancer campaign and I’d love it if you’d help us boost that number again. For every 20 linked up posts, Bellflower Books will provide a memory book to a woman fighting breast cancer and help bring a smile to courageous women giving it their all, every single day. The link up opens on Monday morning and remains open for three days. No blog? No worries. You can also comment on the post or on the Just.Be.Enough. Facebook page with your own story and be counted.

xo

This I Believe – Guest Post By Yael Saar

I am absolutely, joyfully, dancing-ly happy to have Yael here today sharing this amazing post. She added this as a page on her blog, PPD to Joy, not long ago and I just ate it up. I’m excited to share it here today because I think you’ll be able to relate.

This post is about postpartum depression, and about motherhood. But it’s also about relationships and hard days and things that suck. So it doesn’t matter if you’re not a mom or haven’t suffered through PPD – I still think this will speak to you. My suggestion: find a quiet spot, wherever and however you can, and read this. Really read it. Allow it to sink into your brain. I bet your breathing will be deeper and your shoulders lower when you finish.

***

Love is a renewable resource, a self-fulfilling prophecy.
The more you love, the more you love.

This can be hard to feel, and even harder to believe.
Love is magic.
It works regardless of whether you can feel it.
Regardless of whether you believe in it or not.

Being kind is underrated.
Being right is overrated.
When in doubt, choose kindness.
Especially to yourself.

(Go slow and you’ll get there faster. Baby steps will take you farthest.)

About Motherhood

Motherhood is the hardest job on the planet.
Even if you’ve climbed Mt. Everest, you know kids can challenge you more than the tallest peaks.
Miraculously, unbelievably, (thankfully) this is, somehow, all worth it.
But why does this have to be so hard?

My kids are the best kids ever. And so are yours.
The fact that they can drive us crazy is beside the point.

Kids, especially toddlers, are physicists and social scientists.
They test the limits of gravity, safety, and patience.
They yank our chains for a living.
This ain’t easy on the mom.

Yelling at children is unavoidable.
Striving to yell less is important, learning grump-management is helpful, but let’s not kid ourselves, raising our voices at our loved ones is not about to go extinct.
Giving ourselves permission to yell when we are at the end of our rope just might keep yelling from turning into screaming.

Hugs are more important than food.
If we hug our kids more often than we yell at them, all of us will turn out all right.

(Baby steps will take you farthest.)

About Postpartum Mood Disorders

You are not broken.
You are not damaged.
You are struggling.
Every struggle is an opportunity for growth.

You don’t have to like this to survive this.
You don’t have to like this to learn and grow from this.
This sucks, so of course you don’t like this.
You have a right to be angry. How could you not be?
You have a right to be scared.

When you allow your anger and fear to be heard, they cannot rule you.
Interacting with them gives you power in situations you don’t have power over. Running away from your emotions means you can never rest.

If you fight your anger tooth and nail, it will turn into rage and guilt.
If you fear your fear, it will turn into anxiety and panic.
Fighting your emotions only feeds your demons.

Healing cannot happen in a war zone.
Permission-Based Healing is far more effective.

You are not lazy.
You are exhausted.
So is your partner.

Until you get enough sleep, try to respect your capacity, or lack thereof.
Accepting that being grumpy is unavoidable helps.
It is possible to be grumpy without being mean.
Yes, this is hard.

Trust turns caves into tunnels.
When you can’t find the light at the end of your tunnel, dare to ask someone to light a candle and hold your hand.

Asking for help is hard. Very hard. And scary.
And it is the first step to recovery.
If you only learn one thing from having to deal with this darn mood disorder, let it be how to ask for help effectively.
No, you will not be good at this right away. And that’s OK.

(Baby steps will take you farthest.)

About the Role of Community in Recovery:

Community is my favorite word.
I wouldn’t be alive without my family and my community.

Every single person has skeletons in their closet.
Well, these things only look like skeletons, because it’s so dark in there.
When we dare to bring them out into the light, we discover that the skeletons are simply our very human, very scared selves.
Inviting our scared selves out to play can be petrifying.
Sharing our scary stories with others creates community while connecting all of us on the deepest level.
In my experience such trust is always rewarded handsomely.

This is how we trust in the healing power of community.
When we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and human, we allow others to do the same. And we all get stronger together.

Words build community.
When fighting doesn’t bring peace, writing does.
I believe every one of us is capable of writing for healing.
Not ready to write yet?
Read. Speak. Cry. Sing…

(Baby steps will take you farthest.)

***

See? Is that not one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever read? In one post she manages to address all kinds of things that have lurked in the shadows for me.

One of the links above, to Yael’s Permission-Based Healing page, is another new resource on her site. I’ve talked to a lot of people about accepting whatever threatens to overwhelm you – anxiety, rage, grief, whatever it is – and letting it in. Most say I can’t. I’m scared to. I’m afraid if I do I will sink. I know. I was too. I did too. But this approach is the thing that finally allowed me to get better, and one of the people I have to thank for that is Yael. She knows, because she’s been there too. Have a look at that page and let Yael know what you think. (But be gentle with her, she asks – it’s a subject close to her heart.)

Yael is also the one behind the PPD SpeakEasy support calls. When I first heard about these I told Yael (before I really knew her) that I couldn’t really imagine talking to strangers on the phone about my struggle with PPD. I got over it and joined in (I’ve even hosted) and in an upcoming post I’ll tell you about the last call, because it really was a very cool experience. (And if you have a site where you share PPD resources, consider posting Yael’s badge? Pretty please?)

Thank you, Yael, for all you do for our community. We love you for it.

xo


On the Move: Being a Theta Mom

Yes, I’m elsewhere again today, trying on a different hat. Yesterday I was scary, which was really fun, and I appreciate all the kudos for writing honestly about how hard it is to have a newborn.

If you’ve been around here before, you’ll know I’m all about telling it like it is.

If you’re new here, well, I’ll just send you right to the really hard stuff as an example of just how honest I’m willing to be. (And also, hi! Welcome.)

Yes, being a mom is great. But sometimes it also sucks. I figure we should be able to talk about that.

Heather created her site to be about the real deal when it comes to talking about motherhood, and my reaction when I first found her was, “Sign me up!”

Today I’m really happy to be guest posting over there about – what else? – blogging and the benefits of brutal honesty.

Come and visit!

Let the Light In

I am so happy to welcome Leighann (aka Multitasking Mumma) to my blog today. I asked her if she would guest post for me, and she sent me this beautiful post. I wish I had written it myself.

***

Warm, welcoming sun sent dust dancing in its rays each morning and from my spot on the couch I yearned to dance with it.

But I couldn’t let the light in.

The pull of sadness, loneliness, and depression kept me in the shadows.

Sultry breezes called to me from the darkness, pulling at my arms and wrapping around my face.

But I couldn’t let the light in.

I was trapped inside the darkness, struggling to find the light I could see, the warmth I could feel, the freedom I remembered.

But I couldn’t let the light in.

I was weak; exhaustion and the fear of admitting failure held me hostage.

I ached to let the light in.

If I reached out my arm and allowed the kindness, love, and understanding from friends and family wash over me what might happen?

If I admitted that I needed help, that I couldn’t do this alone, that I am not perfect, then what?

If I opened my arms and let the light in, accepting my struggle, my challenges, and my climb would it get harder?

Yes.

But it will get better.

If you let the light in.

***
Thank you so much, Leighann. You are one of the bright lights in my life. xo