Photo by: Roberto Ysais
(TW: suicide, mental heath)
I’ve been trying to figure out how I could possibly put this into words.
I find the question “Are you going to have another kid?” to be as complicated as it is simple.
Even though I almost immediately knew after having Nova I would not have a second child, the question weighed on me heavily, and the answer even heavier.
Simply put, no.
This much I knew as I cared for my newborn son, Nova, in the summer of 2018. But in the midst of a heat wave in Hollywood, engorged breast and a slew of unforeseen insecurities, all I could think about was survival. Yet this daunting question persisted.
I guess it would be easy to say something like “The world is already overpopulated enough.” Or “kids are so expensive,” which is true and something I’ve undoubtedly said in a lame attempt to skirt the topic. But the meat and potatoes of the answer is a story of mental illness, acceptance, sobriety and a whole lot of gratitude.
I had Nova in June 2018, and the 3 years that followed would turn out to be the hardest years of my life. It's hard to say if it all started with undiagnosed postpartum depression or if the events that occurred spun me into a manic and depressive episode. Either way, I become very unstable and mentally ill.
After having Nova I felt sideswiped by the reality of what motherhood actually was. Even with this day and age of “real talk” about motherhood I felt pissed off that no one set me down and at least tried to explain the rabbit hole you unknowingly throw yourself down by becoming a mother.
Photo by: Roberto Ysais
No matter how much you fight it or try to “get back” you are changed mentally and physically forever. I was stunned and would ask my mom friends “Did this happen to you too!? Does everyone go through this!?” My questions reverberated back with a resounding “Yep!” which made me feel even more upset and confused. WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS?
This sense of being unprepared for the fundamental changes motherhood brought in me came coupled with an insane and overwhelming sense of insecurity that literally crippled me. Up untill that point, I had never considered myself a needy person when it came to love, quite the opposite actually: up to that point I had always felt very independent and tough.
But in the face of this tiny human being,
all I wanted was to be loved and seen.
I almost immediately felt like Nova was bonding with my husband Richard more and that I was just the milk maid. I was convinced of it, jealousy filling my body almost as fast as the milk did.
And then the shame set in. I mean, why would I not want Richard and Nova to be close? Why do I need so much love? Why am I even thinking this, Nova’s just a little baby….what's wrong with me? I felt so ashamed because I knew if I talked with anyone about this I would just come off like it was all about me and I was being crazy. “Of course Nova loves you! You are his mother!” they would (and did) say.
The example I had always been shown was, a woman gives birth to a baby and then the first thing out of her mouth is “I’ve never felt so in love”. All I could think was …”I’ve never felt so tired, exhausted, sad, confused and lonely”
Where was this love everyone was talking about and why was I not feeling it?
Writing this now feels so heartbreaking because I see clearly this was the onset of PPD and my mental health problems.
But like a good girl I stuffed it down, lost the weight and tried to ignore the debilitating feelings of worthlessness.
I rang in 2019 with a bit of hope and some flesh goals but all that year brought was devastation. One of the great loves of my life committed suicide, our building got sold, and my family was evicted from my beloved Hollywood apartment when our son was just one year old. .
I was barely holding on enough to unpack when 2020 came rolling in with a pandemic in tow. What's interesting though was the pandemic is not what finally broke me. What broke me was buying a home in California DURING a pandemic and subsequently moving again.
You know all those big life moments that people oooo and awww about like getting married, having a kid and buying a house? Like those, “wow you’ve really made it!” moments. Well, they have all been the hardest things I've done but buying a house, in a pandemic, with a toddler was fucking special.
It was shortly after we moved into our new home that my mind became completely diseased. I imagine it like a green mold slowly starting to grow in my mind and eventually taking over. You see, I had not been sleeping well for years. Before Nova was born, I was a Hollywood party girl, so late nights coupled with the use of uppers had stored a good amount of anxiety in my body. But after I had Nova and experienced a solid 6 months of only sleeping 2-3 hours at a time, my nervous system completely fell apart.
Sleep deprivation is probably one of the most common side effects of motherhood, but when taken to the extreme it is torture. I'm not saying this to be dramatic but to underline the very real effects of sleep deprivation. Now, when I talk to new mothers I try and remind them that its normal to not be feeling completely stable because what they are experiencing, sleep deprivation, is literally a torture technique.
I was sick, and had started having extremely scary thoughts that I couldn’t seem to stop. As I sat “Living the dream” in my new home, I kept imagining myself hanging from our tree in the backyard. So much so that I didn’t want to look outside anymore. After a certain point I didn’t feel safe driving Nova because I kept feeling myself wanting to drive off the road at high speeds.
I felt myself slowly slipping away to the point I was no longer in control of my thoughts or actions. The depression, manic episodes and my obsessive nature were at an all time high as I desperately tried to self medicate with drugs and alcohol.
Numbing the pain and stress of what my life had become with weed, wine and the occasional late night when I could get free. Thinking all of this was helping to relieve my burdens when it was actually just making them worse.
Mommy culture is soaked in booze and false promises of self-care.
This was one of two rock bottoms that I hit. It was from this place that I started clawing my way up through the ashes of what I had become.
I found a therapist I was able to trust and began an intense journey in therapy. I would later find out that she became a PPD specialist due to her own problems and depression with the birth of her third son who was born blind. Week after week, we met trying to sort through and make sense out of my thoughts and feelings. Even though I felt like I was getting help, I was still not sleeping. To say my nerves were shot would be the understatement of the year, they were completely fried off. Each sleepless night would result in a complete unraveling of my mental state that would set me back for days. I started talking with my therapist about the possibility of medication but was still feeling nervous about taking anything. I think the idea of getting addicted to something scared me but also the shame of feeling like I couldn’t figure it out myself. After yet again another terrible night I made a 911 call to my therapist and she told me she thought it was time to call the psychiatrist. It wasn’t till this call that I really came to grips with where I was at. I told the doctor what was going on and he prescribed a low dose antidepressant that causes drowsiness. I started taking it and slowly my sleep started to regulate. I felt like I was starting to be able to think clearly again but I was still experiencing extreme bouts of depression at least once a week. On my follow up I described what was still going on and he said full heartedly that wasn’t something I should be trying to deal with and prescribed 10mg of prozac.
All my life I had been a party girl experimenting with drugs but NEVER before this moment had I considered taking prescription psychiatric medication from an actual doctor. Shrooms off a hippy at a rave, sure, but prozac…me!? I sat humbled, my skin crawling with an invisible residue of shame as I answered my own question, yes ME.
The doctor said I wouldn’t feel anything till a couple weeks but within 3 days I knew this was the right choice. I thought I was going to feel high or euphoric because up till this point that's all I knew of drugs. But that wasn’t the case with prescription medication. For me, it was like the cloud that was over my head moved just enough so that I could see a patch of blue sky. But that’s all I needed. I just needed a sliver of light to shine in to remind me that something else was out there.
I can 100% say prozac saved my life. Whatever ideas around prescription drugs I once had started to fade. I began telling loved ones about the new change I had made and how I was starting to feel better.
It wasn’t till I started opening up about my troubles that I fully understood that NO ONE knew how bad things were for me. When I told close friends I was now on prozac people were so surprised. Which made me realize just how good I had been at hiding and making everything seem ok. I guess my acting skills had finally paid off. Because if people actually had any clue about what I was dealing with they would have been jumping for joy that I had seen a doctor and finally got on something.
It was from this point that therapy started truly taking root and I was able to get down to what was actually going on. Slowing down, doing less and resting became top on my to-do list and remain there. I taught myself how to sleep again and self soothing techniques. Meditation became a priority as did my peace. Honestly, I started feeling amazing. So good that before long I fell back into the slippery slope of nightlife. I thought, “Well, I'm feeling great ….so I can let loose again!”
Wrong. This led me into hitting that second rock bottom I had mentioned earlier.
It wasn’t till I found myself crying and throwing up in the shower of a hotel bathroom in Santa Barbara that I knew that this party girl lifestyle had run its course. I had come so fucking far. Literally clawed my way back from the darkest parts of my mind and here I was crying to my husband about ruining our night because apparently I don’t know my limits.
Over indulging in drugs and alcohol was not something new and dare I say part of the reason the 4 years prior had taken place. But in true Monica fashion I had to spend another 4 months making sure I had learned my lesson good. Further abusing my body with substances, thinking that I still had some “fun” left in me. That’s when my body started revolting against me. I had been able to ignore the sickness in my mind for some time but when my body started uncontrollably purging I could no longer ignore what was happening. It’s like I was stuck in an Ayahuasca ceremony I didn't sign up for. But instead of a professional practitioner leading me through the experience, I was my very own unqualified shaman guiding myself through a psychedelic jungle of rebirth. Honestly, I don’t recommend it, but it's the way it happened for me.
A new life was trying to be born through me but to get to the other side I was going to have to shed the identity I knew and loved.
Much like the magical home birth that I had visioned for years before it happened I had also been visioning a shift into sobriety. Quietly, in the private sectors of my mind I had been fantasizing for 10 years + what my life would look like without the shame, guilt and hangovers I felt from partying. Visions occur for me as if it is already done. Once I see into the future so strongly and am able to feel into what's wanting to emerge through me, I can not unsee it. This connection to source consciousness resides in all of us. It's our ability to know and to see into something greater than ourselves. I used to think it was some kind of weird Deja Vu, but as I get older I have been able to not only recognize it for what it is but more importantly grow it.
I caught the vision of sobriety so strongly that it scared the shit out of me. I knew that on the other side of these habits I had unconsciously formed was the rest of my life. I was terrified about what that would mean for this life I had so perfectly crafted for myself.
This was my opportunity to live into everything I had dreamed of. To be truly courageous with my conviction. Destiny staring me down with her fiery and intense eyes. So, I let the voice get loud and once again stepped out into the unknown.
I sit here today writing this about to celebrate 2 years sober. Sobriety has been the greatest gift I have ever given myself. I'm still terrified about what it means or doesn’t mean but every day clean is something to be proud of. Through radical honesty and the unraveling of self, this experience has become less about abstinence and more about creating space.
What started as an experiment to see if I can do without has evolved into a thesis statement on abundance.
Letting go of things that no longer serve you comes with a price, but the space and opportunity you are able to create in return is endless. In the last couple of years I have been able to tap into a level of self I did not think was possible. Sober, I feel like I'm right at the surface of myself, and very often, completely over flowing. What I've come to realize is that I am enough. I AM enough. This small yet profound sentence vibrates in a field of infinite possibility and truth. By stripping the debris and clutter away from past lives lived, I am able to fully walk in my potential and reconnect with the fact that the love I have so deeply craved is the love I have to give myself. The world of wellness and self-help that resides in our consumerist culture wants us to believe we need “more” to get to a place of peace. We so often are sold a lie that to feel happy and content we must add stuff, things, substances and sometimes even people to feel whole. But as I peel off the layers of old identities, habits, ideas and beliefs, what I am left with is the beauty and brilliance of life itself. A light that can never and will never be diminished by circumstance. It's as close as the beat of my heart and the breath in my lungs. It's love.
I wish I could say I’m doing it for Nova or Richard but in truth I'm doing it for myself. If there has been one thing that motherhood has taught me it's that I’m no good to other people if I’m not taking care of myself. Which kinda feels like a catch 22 when you have humans depending on you for their survival. But the old adage is true: you can't pour from an empty cup. I’ve tested the theory and it almost killed me.
I also have been able to transition off all medication which is something I wouldn’t have felt possible if I was still using drugs or alcohol to any degree. I am so thankful for my experiences with drugs, both legal and illegal. I have had some of the most incredible experiences of my life while under the influence. I've fallen in love, made life-long friends and touched the hand of god multiple times completely reshaping my experience of life. It wasn’t all bad …and prozac was the life line I didn’t know I needed at the time. But once I realized and made peace that I can get there through consciousness my whole perception changed. The beauty, joy and creative possibility that wants to shine through me is diluted when I add anything into the mix. The realization that I am perfect as is is profound and lasting.
These days I find myself in a deep state of gratitude and thanking God a lot. Somewhere on this bumpy road I became that person. Through all the pain, uncertainty and shame I always return back to grace. Whether I'm on the yoga mat or ending a meditation the thing that always shows up for me is thanksgiving. My journey has not been perfect, but on the other end I was able to give birth to not only Nova but to myself as well. Nova is my north star. His presence in my life shows up as a universal mirror illuminating light on all the shadows and my one job is to not look away.
So, am I having another kid?
A question that for so long felt heavy feels freeing now. It might have taken me 6 years, 2 rock bottoms and Richard getting a vasectomy to confidently say it but, no, my family is whole. I am whole. While I might not be birthing anymore babies there is still so much wanting to be born. The act of creating life has unlocked rich creative potential. Seeds of new beginnings sprout as I cultivate the abundant and beautiful garden I’ve already created.
Photo by: Roberto Ysais
