** Update: this was written in 2015. Re-reading this makes me realize how far I’ve come since then. I’ve finally adjusted to motherhood and my life feels ‘normal’ again. I talk with a therapist as often as I can (I find talk therapy helps me more than medication) and I’ve switched medications a few times. I’ve also been diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder. But I feel SO. MUCH. BETTER. **
I never wanted to be a Mother.
I spent the early weeks of my daughter’s life on the same spot on the couch. To this day, the cushion serves as a stark reminder of those times: worn out and significantly flattened by its many hours of use. The cycle went: wake, cry, eat, cry, eat, cry, eat, cry, sleep. Repeat. And for the first time in my life, I felt a particular type of anger bubbling up within me more times than I could count: white hot flashes of rage that terrified me, forcing me to place her in her crib while I stepped outside to remind myself to breathe.
I felt like I was having a heart attack.