Moms Get Depressed Too

Moms Get Depressed Too

She sits in tears, sobbing, as she works the brush through the giant knot in her hair. She feels the panic rising. The sharp pain in her chest. Her hands beginning to fold in on themselves.

It’s her own fault and she knows it.

Self maintenance has been so hard in her depressive state. Going days without a shower, until she absolutely had to. But showering takes so much out of her she rarely has it in her to shower AND brush her hair. So time after time, it’s thrown into the messy bun that no one sees through. And time after time she knows the knots are only getting worse.

She’s fighting the panic. Willing it to stay at bay. She practices breathing, doing her damndest to stop gasping for air like a fish out of water.

She works through the knot. Using the last of the conditioner on what seems like a lost cause. She contemplates calling a salon, to just cut her hair short — maybe even shave it. But then she’d have to explain why her hair was like this in the first place. And it’s humiliating to think, much less say, you have no desire to care for yourself.

That you just want to melt into the wall and disappear sometimes. That life is so overwhelming. That something as simple as showering is just so freaking hard … that your hair is in shambles. So she keeps combing through the knots.

The panic rises and falls. Threatening to breech the patched places. ‘Focus on the truth,’ she whispers to herself. Making herself conscious of the cold wood under her feet. The soft bed she sits on. The wind from the fan above her. Her chest tightens, FOCUS. The feel of the comb in her hands. The cold hair now damp with product that started this all.

Moms Get Depressed TooShe works the knots, pulling out more hair than she realized she had. Tiny bits of progress made. Her heart rate slowing down, her hands returning to their natural feel. Eventually, she manages to work through her hair again. Finally pulling the comb through in on continuous motion. She breathes a deep sigh, dusts it with dry shampoo, and pulls it up again.

She slides the mask in place as she greets the world to take on another day.

One more task. One more smile. One more day.

Trix Raney
Trix started her life in Georgia after living in Myrtle Beach, Tahoe City, and Nashville, her (now) husband wrangled her into a life of Bayou living here in Baton Rouge. She’s the mother of six; a vivacious 9 year old, a curly haired 6 year old, their hurricane of a youngest 4 year old, and 3 sweet babes taken far too soon. She’s well versed in potty humor & innuendos while perfecting the art of sarcasm on the daily. When she’s not busy living the home school life, complete with yoga pants & coffee she is running her business Rane or Shine Designs.


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