When I was younger, I had this recurring dream that I was a blob-like, undulating starfish that would expand to the outer rims of the universe and then contract back down so small to seeming nothingness. Over and over again I would painstakingly try to control its shape as an attempt to feel peace, belonging, security and confidence in my place in the world…but it never quite worked. I kept ever-changing, never quite being able to catch up with myself. I haven’t had this dream in a long while. Maybe it’s because I don’t sleep enough to dream anymore, but I also wonder if it’s because I’ve turned into that starfish in real life - every few months having to search for new clothes that fit as my shape changes once again. My husband has gotten up for the last 20 years putting on the same size and brand of underwear every morning. I wonder what that’s like! But for all the things I can’t control: my schedule, my skin, my hair, my digestion, my friend groups, my budget, my energy, everything…I feel more grounded now than I ever have before. I keep a fortune on my fridge, “Happiness is enjoying what you got. Never from what you want.” Happiness…it’s a full-time job.
After my husband and I got married in 2018, my maid of honor and I had a falling out. It was the single most devastating thing that happened to me in my life thus far, causing my feelings surrounding the subsequent deaths of several family friends, childhood heroes, three aunts and an uncle to revel in the depths of sorrow at my disposal. I remember those few years as being ripe with agony: the outset of a physical decline that played out in not being able to keep food down and near daily panic attacks to the point of my husband having to pick me up on the side of the road because I couldn’t drive home due to panic paralysis. I was sad, but with good reason. Then Covid came along, sparking huge transitions again. I changed the trajectory of my career to focus on voiceover, found a renewed appreciation for community and simplicity and my husband and I started a family. The distance of the pain I felt surrounding my friend dissipated, but the hole was still large. Somewhere out in a field in a different dimension of the universe was I lain, 6 feet under. I kept digging to find myself every day until I became a new person entirely.
A new kind of struggle came along during pregnancy. In hindsight, I have the awareness now that I was plagued by debilitating hormonal imbalances (hypothyroidism turned Hashimoto’s) that played out with peri and postpartum depression. It didn’t help that I am also a recovering ‘good girl’ people pleaser. You see…Ruby is a happy person! Saccharine sweet, they say! Never one to say a bad word, to ruffle feathers. I ask myself, “What do they want?” “How will I make them feel better?” But it never crossed my mind to ask those questions for myself in return. I tried complaining several times to my doctors that I was depressed, but it came out like, “Oh, you know, I’m feeling a little depressed,” or “I haven’t been feeling…great,” or “I’ll figure it out.” The response across several specialists was, “We’re all a little depressed!” “You have so much to be happy for!” “It’s gonna be okay.” When in reality, life was a struggle to survive every day. I didn’t want to live.
Early motherhood reminded me of being in the Sims - constantly reaching the “empty” level of my needs bars - ending up prostrate on my kitchen floor, unable to move, crying without sound, caught in a loop of despair…but this time, unlike my deep agony years earlier, I had so much to be happy about! My life looked perfect: hot husband, wonderful friends, loving children, roof over my head…and yet I couldn’t wait to get away.
After enough time, doctors appointments looked more like: “So, how are you today, Ruby?” Followed by my immediate sobs unable to be subsided. It was at that point doctors started to suggest looking deeper into my bloodwork. “Yes, you have Hashimoto’s,” or in other words: years of stress, emotional turbulence, lack of sleep, nutrients and overall trauma will, in fact, start to kill you. Shrinking my starlight into nothingness to serve others’ needs before my own was no longer a good look. It was not good at all…it was very, very bad. From experience of watching the progressive nature of my mother’s own auto immune journey, I knew that I needed to take control or risk my life. And for as down as I felt, I certainly remembered what happiness felt like. With a diagnosis, I was finally able to visualize myself separately from my symptoms. I started a series of lifestyle changes: mostly demanding my sleep, not letting my kids eat all the food off my plate and water from my cup without having any myself, returning to a regular exercise regimen and spending less money on people telling me to relax and more money on actually relaxing. I felt really guilty spending so much time on myself. Every day felt like Bad Girl Bootcamp. Good girl, who? I had no other choice but to put myself first. And shockingly, everyone in my life is better off for it!
The universe has been gracing me in return. My dear long-lost friend slowly began to re-enter my life.
Now we talk every day. We transitioned my sons into a part-time daycare where they could be across the hall from each other instead of home with me 24/7. They absolutely adore it. Every day I wake up fighting for my life, but this time with a purpose and a light at the end of the tunnel. It has felt like such a long journey for me.
I was asked by another new mom recently, “When do you start to feel like yourself again?” I almost guffawed, but assumed that wouldn’t be a helpful response. To be honest, feeling unlike yourself isn’t the worst thing in the world, because it brings you to redefine who it is you ACTUALLY are. You become a new person. And that’s just how life is. Fall apart and keep having the courage to pick up the pieces to build yourself again. I found my grave, by the way. I dug far enough out to just reach up and breathe again. And oh, damn…it feels so…bad. Bad to the bone. Each and every one, piece by piece, coming together again.
Did you know that starfish are famous for regenerating all their extremities? Well, I’m climbing to the surface with all five star limbs. We’re going to expand into the ether and shine so bright.
Wondrous