It’s a big anniversary week.
But not a fun one with cake & flowers & a present. It’s the one that says, “You’ve lived a full year after seeing demons!” The one that smells like hospital cleaner & feels like a pounding headache behind my eyes.
It’s been a full year since I was admitted to a postpartum psychiatric ward. I wonder if I will always feel it following me around, this weird haunting of my past that makes everyone feel uncomfortable. I look forward to finally paying off my bill so that an envelope from UNC doesn’t serve as a reminder every month. When Harrison lays his head on my shoulder, I close my eyes & still silently apologize for missing so much. I worry that the hollow sense of loss will ever completely go away.
but.
I also feel a surge of victory. I think of the night where I sobbed in the shower with a razor in my hand, willing to cut so deep that I would become numb – I told myself there was no hope. But here I stand today, healthy & attached to life & my son. I am proud of the person & mother I am becoming.
Maybe we should get a cake after all.
