Peppermint

Before this post, I’d like to thank yeahocd.com for including my blog in their “non-OCD blogs” section. While I do suffer from OCD, my anxiety has been more of an issue lately. But if you suffer from any mental illness, or even just like to learn more about them (like myself), they have some great resources linked for you. Check them out!

I’ve had two good days. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve cried. But all-in-all, I’ve been able to laugh and get out of the house. My favorite doctor is my chiropractor. He’s been helping me heal in more ways than one. During our Wednesday visit, I was crying about Flora (my daughter). He told me to think of it as she’s looking down on me and taking care of me, instead of me taking care of her. Through conversation, he suggested that I ask her to send me a sign that she’s ok and that I’m going to be ok. Maybe some of you are skeptical, but I believe in that; the spirit world can access our realm.

I got in my car and drove to the cardiologist to return the heart monitor that I had been wearing for 24 hours. I parked and talked to her. I told her how much I love her and how much I miss her and how stuck I am without her. I asked her to send me a sign that she’s ok and at peace and that I’ll be ok. After drying my eyes, I dropped the monitor off and walked back to my car. Right there in perfect condition, was a perfectly wrapped, round, red and white peppermint. I swear to you, it wasn’t there earlier as I had walked the same path. I had a suspicion this was my sign but thought it was entirely too soon. Little back story: I have a diffuser and the ONLY scent I ever put in it is peppermint, and I used it a lot while pregnant. It’s my favorite smell and I ALWAYS have peppermint on me in the form of a rollerball for my headaches. Today, through a cracking voice I told my mom about asking for a sign and she asked if I had received one. I told her no. Tonight, just about 2 hours later, my husband and I went out for dinner and while walking towards the restaurant, I looked down and there was a perfectly wrapped, round, red and white peppermint. I have to believe that’s her way of coming to me. She knows Mom loves her and Mom loves peppermint. Even as I write this, the tears are streaming down my face.

Each day brings its own blessings and battles. I’m trying. I’m trying so fucking hard sometimes. There are times where the good mood comes naturally and there are times where I feel like I’m trying to claw my way out of quicksand. The world around me keeps moving and I’m just stuck. There are moments where I feel like I’m being kicked when I’m down. At the risk of being an asshole, I’m going to call a situation out. It may not be fair of me to do this, but I need to get this off of my chest. There was a post shared to FB (so I could see it) with a picture of a woman holding her dead daughter only a month after losing Flora talking about the importance of organ donation. I get it. But the person who shared this is very close to me and to say that it upset me is a gross understatement. It triggered me terribly. I was civil on FB, but I was a wreck. I sobbed, I lashed out and screamed at my mother about how hurtful and stupid this action was for someone who is one of the brightest people I know. Everyday I see women with pregnant bellies. Everyday I see a woman pushing a stroller. Birthday clothes shopping for my own niece upset me because just a few weeks prior, I was looking at onesies for Flora. People don’t understand the anguish I go through every. Single. Day.

I know this will get better. But fuck, you guys, this hurts. This healing, this grief, this weight is stifling. It’s been robbing me of who I truly am and I want that person back. Maybe that’s the first step; I don’t know. But I do know that if I want my life back, I have to try harder. I have to fight like I’ve never fought before because, while I’ve been this low, I’ve never been this unmotivated to be better. It’s slow and inconsistent and I’m trying to be kind to myself for that.

They’ve tripled my anxiety meds and I’m still going to therapy. Music is helping me heal and so is Courtney Peppernell. I love to sing and Flora heard me sing a lot while I carried her, so it’s a very emotional activity for me still, but everything with time I guess.

“There was a forest beyond the rolling hills, and in the winter it was burned to the ground. It was damaged so badly nothing was left, not even a sound. But from the ashes, new trees began to grow, and the river began to run, and the flowers sprouted in new rows. The forest reminds me of you, how you took back what was yours. And reminded the world you survived all these horrible wars.”

Courtney Peppernell, The Road Between

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