I've realized pride is what motivates most of what I do and it's unnerving that I am so shallow as to be intensely motivated by what other people think of me and/or by a desire to be better than others. I've never considered myself a competitive person, but after having an intimate conversation with a good friend, it was brought to my attention that I do want to be better than other people, in fact, I want to be the best. The best homemaker, the sexiest woman, I want to have the cleanest house, the smartest kids, I want other people to look at me and say "Hey, she really has it all together, I wish I could be more like her." But why? Being perceived as perfect is only isolating. Even if it isn't true, perceived perfection brings out jealousy, hatred, and self-loathing in others. "Why can't I be more like her? She doesn't seem to struggle with this, am I the only one?" These are not the thoughts that lead to lasting friendships, camaraderie, or help. I have a very hard time admitting I need help. At least I did, until I was knocked flat by postpartum depression and was forced to reach out for help for my own safety and for the safety of my family. In hindsight I can see how very prideful I was and how detrimental it was to my sanity and my health in general. Even in the depths of despair that horrible day two years ago when I felt my only option was to slit my wrists and slowly bleed to death. (Even now, remembering that time causes me to weep, mostly with joy and relief that I was saved, I thank my Father in Heaven for sending me an angel in my sweet grandmother's spirit to bolster my strength enough to call my Relief Society President and ask her for help.)
Just as a side note, I don't want to be misunderstood or pitied for my experiences, I want to share in order to raise awareness about the dangers of postpartum depression and depression in general that we might as a society set watch guards over young mothers and others afflicted with this debilitating disease. They can be saved, and we must save them!
Even at this low point in my life, my cursed pride was manifest in that I called someone I knew had to help me. I could have easily called one of my handful of friends and looking back, I realize they would have come running. But I wouldn't, I couldn't, I was too afraid of rejection, of being perceived as unfit to be a mother. Or maybe it was inspiration that led me to call Sister Rowe. Yes, no maybes about it, I know now I was inspired to call this sweet, kind woman. She responded immediately to my request for aide. Again, I don't wish to flaunt my tragedies frivolously, the last few years have been so hard and so dark for me and I feel an urgency to reach out to others who may be struggling in the same ways I have struggled. I want them to know there is help, there is light at the end of the tunnel, hold on, and reach out. Others will lift you up when you can no longer bear the burdens placed upon you.
My experiences, my life is a testament that life can be so brutally shattering, the darkness so smothering, and yet the Atonement of Jesus Christ will shine forth in your life as you hold on and reach out. As I struggle to combat my pride, I've realized it can only be replaced with Love. Love for myself, for my family and for everybody really. Hayden Carruth said, in a poem written near the end of his life, that he was mostly Love, now. (As quoted by George Saunders in Congratulations, By the Way.) How soothing, to be mostly Love. I want to be motivated by Love now.
