I am a huge advocate for mental health. Self-care is a necessity, not a luxury. Similar to one I said in my last post, a mom isn't all we are - we are still human. We still deserve love from ourselves and passions/hobbies just like everyone else.
If you're like me (and you likely are), I am a mom who's obsessed with my kids. I mean, obsessed. My idea of fun is playing outside with them versus lounging and drinking by a pool (I still love that, don't get me wrong). I would rather snuggle up and watch a kids movie with my family than lay in bed alone binge-watching the latest Netflix craze. I just thoroughly love my kids, and honestly - they're my best friends. No one else can love you as wholesomely and unconditionally as your kids, and no one can be as brutally honest as them either. Personally, this makes for the best kind of friendship, cause you know they aren't gonna bullshit you.
The downside to being best friends with my kids? I often forget that oh-so-important thing I mentioned above - I am more than just a mom. One of my first posts was about mom guilt, my last post was about losing your identity to a diagnosis, this post is for every parent, special-needs or not, and it's about self-care. All three of these topics are a messy, sticky, intertwined spider web: self-care makes you feel Mom Guilt, Mom Guilt makes you feel like less of a person, feeling like less of a person makes you want to take part in self-care, and the circle continues. Too often we forget to love on ourselves as much as we love on our kids.
If you love your kids as much as I do, and you thoroughly enjoy all the things you do with them, wouldn't that be considered self-care? NOPE.
Have you ever gone to the grocery store BY YOURSELF? Hello - it's HEAVEN. I used to do that in University and thought it sucked... man, did I take that for granted. Now, I looooooove when I can get my shopping done in 20 minutes, without any whining, breaking open groceries in the store for a snack, or pushing that obnoxiously large cart around. It doesn't happen often, but when it does - I live for it.
Have you ever put your kids to bed after a long day, and looked at the laundry that's piled up and think, "I really should do that." Then simultaneously thought, "nope - not tonight" ? I have. Those nights end with me crawling into the bubble bath with a book I haven't picked up in 3-4 weeks. And I looooooove it.
Have you ever put your kids down for a nap, and decided to treat yourself to one, too? (Didn't they always tell us, sleep when the baby sleeps?) It's heaven. And honestly, Mom Guilt can't touch me at that point, because I'm snug as a bug with my brain turned off.
The day your child is born, everything in you shifts. You legitimately morph into this different person. Kinda recognizable, but not at the same time. When your second kid comes, you don't even flinch, because you've already completed this metamorphosis. I'm currently pregnant with my third child, and my fiance asked me if I'm scared... and I thought... 0% of me is nervous for this child. I know the drill. Being a mom is my comfort zone. I'd be more scared about having to go socialize with a group of people I barely know.
The point is - for too long, I lived as only being a mom. I stopped loving myself. I stopped caring about my wants and needs because I was SO focused on my kids wants and needs. We were miserable. I kid you not. What I thought was me being a stellar mom, was actually me honestly SUCKING. I was worn out, exhausted, unhappy, and tired of watching CocoMelon on repeat. My kids knew that. They could see it, they could feel it. More often, I stopped cooking family dinners and started ordering takeout. I stopped thinking of fun things to do and instead resorted to throwing a movie on so I could nap. Chores piled up. Nothing, and I mean nothing, seemed to bring me joy. My eating habits led to weight gain, my stress led to my hair falling out, my exhaustion led to extreme depression. By refusing to show myself any sort of love, I had not only damaged myself, but I was damaging my kids.
Yikes.
That's a hard admission to make. Mostly because we all try so hard to convince everyone we are stellar Moms (newsflash - you ARE). But I fell so far down the rabbit hole, I ended up with severe depression. I started medication (best decision ever, and if you are facing any sort of anxiety/depression, please, talk to your doctor). The road to finding the perfect balance of medication/dosage was awhile. Some meds helped but not quite enough. Some still saw me having manic episodes and then severe depression episodes. Finally, we landed on a medication and dosage that has worked wonders for me. With that support, I was able to take a really hard look at my mental health, and how I was affecting my family. Remember, little eyes see everything.
My son had started having extreme meltdowns. He started relying on screens for everything. This was all before his diagnosis of course, but I can't help but feel that part of it was because of watching his mom fade away. It hurts to think my son may have ever felt that I didn't find joy in being with him.
I decided to google "self-care" to see what I should do. Top recommendations are "take a spa day," "go on a shopping spree," "book a girl's trip." I don't know about you, but 1) that does not seem overly fun to me, and 2) I wanted self-care, not self-sabotage in the financial area. So I started to think outside the box. What was something I used to LIKE doing (I honestly couldn't remember)? That was a dead-end, so I thought MASSIVELY out of the box. I landed on working out. HA - I would never be caught dead in a gym.
I did a year of at-home workouts. I lost over 54 pounds. I took rest days guilt-free when I needed them. I had a little workout buddy who had SO much fun jumping along with the trainers. I slowly began feeling better. I had something that was FOR me. I was driven to press play everyday. I ate better. I started sleeping better (thank GOD). I started enjoying leaving the house. I looked forward to loading Nate up in the stroller and going for a walk. We started spending hours outside in the backyard playing and splashing in the water. I found my joy.
Now, as much as working out and working on my self-image helped me, it was also the little things. I stopped guilting myself about the food choices I made. Treats with Nate were things he got to experience for the first time, and I was not missing out on that. I stopped comparing myself to other moms. If I couldn't afford to take Nate to a cottage for a week, we simply camped out in the backyard. It was a BLAST. The memories matter, not the cost. I stopped looking at life from the perspective of what I had "given up" or "lost," and instead, focused on what I had been "given" and what I was "finding" - my joy.
Fast forward a few years to Nate's diagnosis. All those old, horrible, self-deprecating thoughts creep back in. The depression set in again. The motivation to do anything was gone. Everything became reading textbooks, reading articles, researching therapies, filling out forms, booking appointments. Suddenly, it seemed like there was no joy to be found. Well - to put it bluntly, I'm dumb. There's joy in everything, especially our kids. You just have to be open to seeing it.
Although Nate had no idea what had happened (cause, how do you explain Autism and a diagnosis and being "disabled" to a non-verbal 3 year old?), he did sense the shift in my mood. Believe it or not, it was him who brought me out of it. He spent more time cuddling me (he had never been much of a cuddler). He started trying to show interest in sharing things with me. He wanted to do things WITH me. His behaviours got better (which was a team effort), meaning day trips and such were no longer off the table.
We got a Science Centre membership. We go to the zoo. We go to the beach. We take walks. We go to the park. We explore EVERYTHING. We have spontaneous ice cream dates. It's IN BETWEEN all those that we have therapy and appointments. His view on his life wasn't his appointments - so why was mine?
Instead of falling down the rabbit hole of ASD research, I started reading books about Autism that made me feel good, that I could learn from instead of trying to find a "solution" in. I would bring that book into the bubble bath. Learn and self-care. I would research and try different sensory bins/activities with Nate. Some of which worked, some of which were a disaster, but we had fun EVERY time. I turned learning and growing through ASD into a fun journey. One that became self-care for both myself and Nate. We both looked forward to our time away from the house. Time away from picture cards with words. Time away from frustrating utensils. Time away from simply reading a book about animals. Instead, we went and SAW animals. We learned how utensils were made. We played with a giant word wall.
I'm not saying to abandon all solo self-care and follow my foot steps. Nope. Nosirree. I'm saying, follow your gut, and don't forget that you are both more than a diagnosis. I bet your child wants/needs some self-care just as much as you do. I still have my bubble baths with a trashy romance novel. I still eat way too much chocolate. I still LOVE my solo grocery time. But I've learned to shift my focus from "I'm doing everything for my kids," to "I'm doing everything with my kids."
It was a game changer. Truly, it was.
There will be more posts on mental health, because that's one of the things I'm entirely passionate about as much as Autism Spectrum Disorder. I won't hide behind my mental health, just like you shouldn't, just like our kids shouldn't.
XO
The Spectrum Mom
(P.S - One of my favourite self-care indulgences is a wheel of baked brie & red pepper jelly after the kids go to bed)
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