I am a creative. I also have ADHD.
It's my biggest blessing and simultaneously my biggest curse. My brain never stops. I am always thinking ahead and solving problems. Even ones that do not exist yet. I am constantly trying to make improvements and try new things and look for new possibilities.
These are all really great qualities to have. Many famous inventors, business people, financial tycoons, and people who made great change to our world all have had creative minds. But to bring it back to me, a wife, a mother, a homemaker, being creative has definitely advanced our family. But being creative also tends to leave me with a sense of unfulfillment. While I may have some strong succusses and moments of great pride in my accomplishments, I am always striving to fulfil this creative vortex. The work is never done.
Life came to a screeching halt during my first pregnancy. We had just purchased a home in Murfreesboro, Tennessee and signed our closing documents the day I found out we were expecting. Later that month I was diagnosed with HG, put on bedrest, went on disability, and my husband started his pilot training at MTSU. Going from 2 full time incomes to a violently ill wife and a student husband who worked every second he wasn't in school or flying made for a very rough time. I remember a conversation I had with my mom who still lived back home in California. I was laying on my bathroom floor alone because I was too sick to move and couldn't keep anything down, even water. My husband was busy and I was too sick to unpack and settle into our new home. My mom bought a plane ticket and was out the very next day. She stayed with me a week, unpacked all my boxes, cooked and prepped meals, brushed my hair, drove me to appointments and helped turn our house into our home. I will never forget her kindness and willingness to care for me and my husband.
It was this time in my life that I entered the trenches that I later labeled "Survival Mode".
It's a dark place. Marriage got hard. I was alone. I was still new to Tennessee and had no friends in the area. I was pregnant and terrified for the safety of my baby in the wake of HG. Our finances were terrible. I was scared that we were going to lose the house we had just purchased. I couldn't afford anything for the baby I was about to have and I literally couldn't do anything about it but worry. And barf. A lot.
My son arrived after a terrifying emergency cesarian. I was induced. They broke my water and soon after realized that his cord was wrapped around his head AND he was laying on top of it, essentially cutting off his vitals. A prolapsed umbilical cord. "Sweetie, we are going to have to get him out right now. Your doctor will be in soon." Within seconds a team of about 15 people swarmed into the room. I was terrified and soon sedated. I remember my husband promising not to leave my side while being handed surgical attire. I remember a nurse riding on my hospital bed with me to the operating room. And I remember them showing me a gunk covered baby boy over the curtain. It took me 4 days to recover in the hospital and then guess what? They send you home. With a kid and pain meds. You're a parent now. Good luck!
I'm not sure I ever really recovered from that whole experience. It was just a blip on the radar but it was such a significant event for me. It really set the tone for motherhood. Where I was usually adventurous, now I was hesitant. What I didn't really understand at the time was that a switch had flipped. I used to operate under a limitless approach. I was unafraid to try new things or have new experiences. But all of the sudden, I was changed. Now there was fear. There was another human to protect. And his life was almost taken from me before it really even began. I felt a sense of fragility that I never felt before. I became extremely careful. I became even more anxious than I was before. And now, I rarely left my house.
A year later, and one miscarriage later, I became pregnant with my second born child. This pregnancy was hard in its own regard. I was in the middle of a marital crisis when I discovered I was pregnant. I was thrown in the middle of a loss of trust event that not only challenged my marriage, but made me question myself. How was I supposed to raise not only 1 but 2 children by myself, or worse, with a very broken marriage. I was not only battling extreme anxiety, but now I was severely depressed. AND the HG was back. Life sucked. There is no graceful way to say it. I completely shut down to cope with it all. I become very passive and dismissive. Again I was on disability. Again I was on bedrest, now with a toddler to care for. I was still alone. But this time, I was picking up pieces of my broken heart and having to hold myself together. I was a mess. And I needed help.
I started counseling and a grief recovery course. I was diagnosed with PTSD and I carried so much guilt. So much so that I never told anyone. Isn't PTSD reserved for people with REAL trauma? I had never been shot at or physically abused. Certainly being betrayed could not warrant a PTSD diagnosis.. Right? I began learning to hold space for myself and offer myself the same grace that I would offer a friend in this situation. I learned that grief is not only a process to navigate in death. I learned that grief is the process of walking through any loss. The foundations of trust were now gone and I was grieving what I dreamt my marriage would be. I began to allow myself to feel, and accept, and begin the healing process. It wasn't a great time for me. I grew more distant from people I loved. I isolated myself from society even more so than I already naturally was. And on top of all of that heartache, we were starting to realize that something was wrong with the development of our first born right after the arrival of our second born.
A broken marriage, financial problems, uncertainty about the health of our oldest, a newborn, haunting grief (because that doesn't just vanish) and not much support. I kicked into survival mode. I was determined to get out of bed every morning. I had babies to raise. Somedays I cooked pancakes, but most days, we ate cereal. Somedays we went to the park, but most days we stayed inside and watched movies. Depression, anxiety and loneliness were never fully in control, but they were definitely in the passenger seat.
Survival mode. It became comfortable. I lived there, for the next 2 years.
The thing about survival mode is that it is a coping mechanism to get you through, it's not a strategy for life. As humans, we are designed and have the capability to adapt and change according to our circumstances. Instead of growing and developing beyond my survival mechanism, I stayed stagnant and grew complacent with my terrible situation. Shame was thick. I knew I was stuck but I didn't do much about it.
Again, I never had an awakening. I didn't have some huge lightbulb moment or get motivated because of some inspirational speaker. But I did have a conversation with an old friend. We were talking about the past and I said something like, "I'm just so awkward in social situations. I feel like the black sheep in every room I am in." She stopped me and said, "You are not awkward. Somebody told you that you were awkward or made you feel like the black sheep. And you believed them."
She was right. It was a hard pill to swallow. In fact, that revelation has been inside my brain trying hard to decode the years of hurt and loneliness and self doubt and lack that I have felt, and ultimately, owned. Her words started chipping away my calluses and began to open my eyes to who I had become. It was this conversation that began my journey from
no longer just surviving, but thriving.
Who are you? And how much of that is truly you? How much of it if false and has been owned by you? How much of your identity is shaped by fear and hurtful words spoken over you? How much of your current identity is shaped by trying to please other people? How much of your identity has become foggy due to circumstances like marriage or divorce, becoming a mother, navigating a hard diagnosis, a loss of trust event, life in general... And most importantly, who do you really want to be? It's time to walk in the identity that best portrays who you really are at your core. I am not awkward. I stuck my foot in my mouth that one time and have declared for years that everyone thinks I am weird. I am NOT awkward. From now on I will treat myself like I am good enough to be wherever I am and that I am worthy of great friendships, deep conversations and fun social encounters.
This is who I was. Bruised and broken. Exhausted. Consistently overwhelmed. Living in Survival Mode.
But who am I really?
I am a confident woman who is raising my children to contribute kindness and empathy to those around them. I am worthy of love and friendship and belong wherever I am. I am free from the expectations of people who do not bear weight in my life. I am a creative person who is allowed to contribute new ideas that benefit my family, my community and the planet. Hello, I am Brittany Parra. Join me in my Journey from Surviving to Thriving!
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