The Exhaustion of PPD

     I’m tired of being tired. An intense, ceaseless dread undermines the foundation where gratitude for this new chapter supposed to lay. I’m tired physically, mentally, and sometimes spiritually. I’m tired of measuring my good days based on how productive I am. Am I even present in the moment?
     But it’s hard to stay in the moment’s joy, consistently. Too much has happened, scarring my neurological wiring…believing constantly that danger hides at the next corner. I’m tired of being anxious. Trying to prepare for coming growth, but the mind is hyper-vigilant and overcompensates by discarding excitement and adopting a leering foreboding.
     I’m tired of being lonely. Realizing that one family consisted of mere acquaintances; their care only present as long as there was a physical need. However, when the need was friendship - when presence couldn’t be promised - they gave space for silence at the wrong time. They knew, but didn’t check in. Were they truly empathetic or was their care only a requirement of the position and clock?
     I’m tired of being in survival mode. What happened to the settling down in ‘settling down’? The days of dreaming have been replaced with daily agenda catalogs. The adventure has become a monotonous schedule, and because of the constant fear, I quickly deplete of any motivation. If it isn’t anxiety or busyness felt, it is numb. I wish I could have peace. I wish I could have joy.
     I miss the warmth of my husband’s embrace at night. Is healthy love truly “boring”? Is making a home just about having a lifelong roommate? I’m tired of feeling weak, needing to ask for help. My man is also worn, and so both of us know we need to support one another, but already exasperated. We assist as we can; but we become more weathered. Maybe I was disillusioned with the desire to have grand stories to tell my children. The world preaches that the domestic lacks the fervor that other careers or travel can bring. I’m still learning to submit to the purpose of being at home, when I’ve spent so much time finding my worth outside of it.
     It is wise to take each moment breath by breath. However, I’m tired of feeling like this mountain fails to reveal its chateau of peace. For every new milestone - every instance of praise lasts but a second before my mind begins to race as it prepares for the next leg of the journey. When can I finally rest? Dumping responsibilities, tunneled vision for the next task, I fail to enjoy the hope that waits for me. God, come to my rescue; and quicken the pace!