The Breakdown of a Mother (Part I)

As I write this, hot tears slide down my face and burn my cheeks. I wonder if I will ever feel 'normal' again. A sweet little blonde angel snuggles close to me and she smells of Dove bath soap and V05 shampoo. As I gently kiss her sleeping head I pray to God, Please Lord let me be a fully functional Mother for Savannah. Let me be a grandma one day. Did I really just say that? I just want to grow old and be there for my children..... Amen. 

The scene from the evening replays in my mind and I find myself shaking my head in frustration. I pinch the bridge of my nose and cuss at myself. I let my emotions get out of control and now my kids are scared and I'm a hot damn mess. excuse my french but fucking great.  How do I undo the damage I caused? *sigh* Bare with me as I try to describe to you the events that lead up to and that immediately followed my break down. 

In honesty, I knew it was coming. I could feel it brewing for the last few days. Boiling steady just beneath the surface. As my patients began to find out and friends become more brazen, the steady stream of, "How are you doing.... mentally?" seems to be on everyone's mind. "Mentally? I'm totally fine...." At the time I didn't think I was lying. Most people's inquisitive looks turn to concern as they casually say something along the lines of, "Maybe you should find a support group." I end the the inquisition by moving on to a new topic but somewhere in the back of my head I wondered when is this really going to hit me? 

As the days wore on and my energy waxed and waned my "mental" health started to cross over the line from fine, to wtf and now, to holy fuck. Yes, the f-word seems to consume me right now. I can't help it. I'm really really angry and scared as hell.  Even though I'm struggling to find the energy to get through my days, I somehow drag myself to the gym in hopes to find some spark. Instead fatigue smacks me in the face and drains every ounce of life I seem to have in me. 

Then, I come home to this......

My medicine came in today..... Even looking at the picture makes my anxiety sky rocket. What the HELL is in there, that is a BIG damn cooler..... At first I ignore it. As I sit down to eat with the kids, I feel it waiting for me. Almost taunting me. I keep looking over at it like maybe it will disappear while I am eating. I want it to go away. It is the big elephant in the room (except its white and made of styrofoam).  When I've ignored it long enough, and I realize all my wishing isn't making it blow up into a million pieces, I finally decide to look inside it. I take a steak knife out of the drawer and begin to cut the tape. Hundreds of thoughts race through my head and I find myself mumbling, "I don't want to do this. How the hell do I do this?" Of course by now the interest of my older son has been piqued so he makes his way over to me and throws his arm over my shoulder. "You Ok, Mom?" I ignore his question and open the box. 

 At the sight of this I begin to cry. I take the box out and examine the contents. 30 pre-filled syringes of Copaxone.

Oh. 

My. 

God. 

This is what my life's become? This is what I have to do for the rest of my life??

I.

CAN'T.

DO.

THIS.

As I slide to the kitchen floor, sobs rack my body. Cries of pure anxiety echo through the kitchen and soon all three kids are at my side. Not knowing what to do, they sit along side of me and stare wide-eyed. At some point Savannah begins to softly cry. I lean in to her and whisper that everything is going to be alright. I try to compose myself but what I really want to do is throw a huge tantrum.  I want to pick up that damn box and chuck it out a window.  I want to kick my feet and bang my fists and scream out at the top of my lungs.

to be continued......