You know when you see other families and individuals and it seems like they’ve got it all figured out? And you just know they are better mothers than you are, and always look as fantastic as you see them looking, and you are sure their finances are in perfect order and they are so in control of themselves that they never yell or cry or have really cruddy days where they feel a generalized loathing of the population as a whole? Then you wonder why you don’t have it all together just like these other perfect people, and feel like a loser?

A few weeks ago a friend of mine told me I was a Stepford Wife. Apparently she is living with the delusion that I am much more together, happy and perfect than I actually am. This got me thinking. I sure hope no one out there looks at me and feels bad about themselves. I’m sure you all know the wonderful feeling of relief experienced when you drop by a friends house unexpected and discover that they have Cheerios ground into the carpet and a pile of two day old dishes stacked by the sink. Of course, they are always embarrassed because you witnessed a day where things are just a bit out of control. To these friends, I always say thank you. Thank you for letting me see this, because it reassures me that I am ok, and that, in fact, this is normal.

So, today, I’ve decided to be open about some things I haven’t been sharing lately. Not only am I suffering from the usual malady of a massive mess of laundry and graham crackers sprinkled artfully around my living room, but I’m also dealing with a pretty severe bout of depression and anxiety. I’ve been a little off ever since I had my daughter, but in the past few months I’ve gone from “a tad irritable” to “run for your life!” Not being the kind of person who wants to admit something is wrong, I plodded along until I finally reached the point where I was simply unable to function. My anxiety was so high I had days where I couldn’t go out in public for fear of the noise and the crowds. I had weeks where I sat on the couch for most of the day, absolutely unable to even fathom motivating myself into productivity. Every little problem seemed overwhelmingly huge and tiny irritants made me freak out. I wanted nothing to do with the outside world. I stopped answering the phone. I quit doing anything that would bring me into contact with anyone I knew, and on the days when it was unavoidable, I spent hours panicking about it, and tried to get it over with as quickly as possible. The only thing I did do well was eat everything in sight. I stopped singing, hardly took any pictures, and had no desire to write anything. In short, I was not a happy person, and I was not me. I had the occasional good day, but in reality, most of them were crap.

So why haven’t I mentioned all this? Because, as stupid as it is, I want to appear happy and competent. I’m embarrassed by my body’s failure to deal with the onslaught of hormones brought on by being pregnant or nursing for almost five years straight while dealing with the stress of being a military spouse and the mother of two little kids. The plain truth is that almost anyone in my shoes would have some sort of negative physical response when trying to handle everything I’ve had on my plate. In fact, once I finally admitted that something needed to be done to change this, I discovered that several of the people who I thought were so “together” were, in actuality, having the same struggles. I really have no reason to be embarrassed, I just needed to fix the problem.

Now, after choosing to do something about this, I am telling you all this with the help of some high grade pharmaceuticals, which seem to be beginning to make a difference. I’ve managed to clean the house a few times. I’m reacting to life in a fairly normal manner. I had PMS without turning into a hysterical She-Hulk. I find myself enjoying the things I used to enjoy, and I’m starting to be able to not worry about getting through the day, it’s just happening. I’m even belting out show tunes while I tend my garden, much to my neighbor’s chagrin, I assume. I’m not perfect, by any means. I still have bad days, and my anxiety is still present, but everything is improving, and right now, that’s enough.