"Oh I'm fine. I'm kind of tired."
"Baby not sleeping well?"
"No, we're sleep regressing hard-core."
"I'm sorry; hope this week is better."
I was at a women's group earlier this week, and this was a conversation I had multiple times. It was simple, clean, and uncomplicated. True. But sanitized.
What I actually wanted to say was,
"I am barely holding it together."
"I have already lost my temper with my children twice today and it's only 10 in the morning."
"I am so tired I can't see straight."
"I need a hug." (But if you touch me, I'm probably going to ugly cry...) (I probably need that too...)
I'm not blaming this particular group. No one is a mind-reader; onus to open up is ultimately on me, and I am dreadfully awful at that. But sometimes in conversations, we're afraid to pry or we don't want to offend or we just don't know what to say, and so we leave it on a surface level when the other person wants and needs to take it deeper.
Truth be told, these past few months have had a lot of ups and downs. Baby R is full of smiles and laughs these days, and being her mama is a sweet gift. S and E are such silly little people with big feelings, big ideas, and big personalities these days. I have never laughed harder or more often than I have as a parent. And it makes my heart soar every time S says "I love you mama, and I'm proud of you" as he goes to bed. I melt when E reaches out his little arms and demands "HUG!"
On the flip side, postpartum depression has hit harder this go-round than the last, coupled with sleepless nights and some feeding issues - plus managing two other high energy kids and trying to run a business - and I'm a hot (exhausted) mess more days than I often admit. And this particular day followed a night of long feedings all night long, and was already filled with spilled coffee, no shower for me, no naps for baby R, exhausted impatience (which always makes me feel rotten), and more big feelings and tantrums than normal with S and E.
I cried at the end of that meeting. Slow, hot, barely seeping out tears that were quickly - angrily - brushed away. Barely noticeable, unless you were really paying attention. Pull it together, KD. No one wants to deal with your mess. Just get out of here. You'll make it home somehow. Don't you dare tell a friend (or virtual stranger) that you need them.
And I didn't.
I left, picked up my kids, and went home. Had to count my kids when I got home, to make sure that I'd actually remembered all of them, because I wasn't actually positive - that's how tired I was. (I did, don't worry). Cried a few more times that afternoon. Barely held it together, but survived. And the next day was a better day. As was the next.
This isn't the story of one woman being undone because she didn't open up and share where she needed help. It's just the story of one woman who could have had a slightly better day, if she'd simply acknowledged that she didn't have to go-it alone, and maybe let a few tears fall unabashed.
Friends, these are lies that prevent deep, real, friendships from being formed.
You shouldn't pry (someone else will do it better).
You won't know what to say (so don't say anything).
You'll offend her.
No one wants to deal with your mess.
Pull it together (the facade is more important than the freedom of dealing with your mess).
It's not a big deal (because it has to be, in order to ask for help).
Don't burden them (because helping is always a burden).
Friendship only happens when we trust one another. Entrust ourselves to one another. Listen to one another. Give permission to one another to come undone. Give honest answers, even when they're messy. And sometimes - if both parties are cool with it - give real hugs.
Imagine how the narrative might have been different, had I done that (or if someone else had taken a risk and pressed in a bit, when they saw my red face and rapid-fire wiping of tears).
I still would have been tired, but maybe I would have had a five minute break, while someone else held my baby. And sometimes that five minute break is all you need to turn your perspective around.
I still would have had to deal with my anger and impatience, but maybe the encouragement of another mom would have helped ground and calm me, to let go of the little things that don't really matter and keep perspective on what does.
Maybe I would have seen in real-time that "holding it together" is a great way to keep people at a distance, and when the facade crumbles a bit, you're not the only one who benefits. Maybe I would have gotten to know someone else a little bit better, seen a little bit more of their story, even as I shared a little bit more of mine.
And maybe someone would have given me that hug that I needed, and whispered,
"Hold on mama. You got this. And while you're struggling to find your footing today, I've got you." And in those simple words and simple embrace, I might have found just a little bit more strength to press on a bit more confidently, knowing that I wasn't going alone.
Perhaps this is true for you too.
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