Last year, on the longest day of the year, I climbed a mountain. Stone Mountain, to be exact. It wasn’t Everest, but it felt like it.
I thought about quitting half way up. I wanted to turn around and walk back down the mountain, content to have gone as far as I could, not caring that I didn’t finish. And then I heard Katherine call my name.
We finished the climb together.
In so many ways, climbing that mountain is the perfect metaphor for what it’s like to survive postpartum depression and anxiety. Any mental illness, really.
Every single day feels like climbing a mountain when you’re in the thick of anxiety or depression. Night comes and we collapse into bed, thankful to have made it to the top of the day and back down again, knowing that tomorrow the climb will happen again, only there’s hope that it will be easier and eventually we’ll reach the top and get to stay there.
I’m climbing again this year alongside Warrior moms–survivors and those currently struggling–their spouses, children, and those who love us.
We’re climbing to raise awareness of the fact that 1 in 7 mothers will be diagnosed with a mood or anxiety disorder. And that’s JUST the statistic on those who seek professional help from their doctors or other clinicians.
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Postpartum Progress devotes its time and energy and resources to helping the moms who get help from their doctors AND the ones who don’t. This organization, one near and dear to my heart, needs our help.
Too many women begin their lives as new moms, whether it’s their first baby or their fifteenth, and experience the crippling feels of depression and anxiety. I’m climbing for those moms.
I’m climbing for me.
I have a meager first goal of raising $100 by the end of today. I’m halfway there. Halfway up the mountain last year is where I wanted to turn back, but I know that I can’t do that. After today, I have a little over a month to raise $500 for our team, and I know I can do it. But just like overcoming depression and anxiety, I can’t do it alone.
Every penny counts. Skip a latte, save a mom.
I remember the first 100k bike ride that I completed. During it, there was a climb — technically, it was up a mountain, but it wound around the mountain, meaning that the climb, itself, was quite gradual . . . still, since it was just a turnaround at the top, I told myself “I’m only going to go half-way” and then “I’ll go 3/4 of the way and turn around.”
Then I got to the top and wanted to die. But, I sure felt good about it afterward. After feeling returned to my nether-regions.
Good on you — great cause.