My understanding is primitive, I'll admit. But I love this idea of being a spiritual warrior. The image sustains me. We all have our burdens; mine are depression and motherhood. So I try to cultivate the Warrior to find heart, compassion, gratitude.
And you know, the path is dotted with Legos, preschool snacks, pink liquid amoxicillin for little ear infections. Sleeplessness. Plus the odd Major Depressive Episode that renders me dysfunctional and spiritually flat as a pancake.
To save my life, I have meditation, yoga, and the salmon-colored pills I down after breakfast. I am as ambivalent about those pills as I am about being the mother of two kids under four. But here we are.
I share my recent post-crack-up story, as it is still unfolding, because I know there are many more women out there like me. We know a lot about depression these days, especially PPD, but what about CMID (chronic motherhood-induced depression)? (I made this term up; you won't find it in the DSM-IV.) To me it feels like I must be a warrior just to make it out of bed, and so much more so to care for my children, and even more to care for myself. Beyond that, spiritual health can seem as far away as my old dress size. I want to hear more stories from the trenches.
And my story, well, it's my story. It's important that I tell the truth here. So, as they say in 12 step programs, take what you like and leave the rest.