Blog Category: Mental Health

I was recently asked what to do when you are touched out. This sweet mama was sitting deep in shame, so over being touched by and breastfeeding her baby, not to mention how it was affecting intimacy with her husband. She said, "I feel like I want to jump out of my body any time my husband kisses me or tried to love on me. I HATE THIS!"

I've got to tell you, I could so relate to this mama! After having my first son, this is exactly how I felt. I used to cry when he would nurse because it was emotionally so incredibly painful for me. I couldn't figure out why. I was lucky to have a friend tell me that I was ok and I wasn't the only one who ever felt that, and taught me how to cope until I started to feel better. I'll share her tips too, and I also want to touch on another level of what may be going on that I didn't know about until much later.

In my experience this is most often a trauma response. And not necessarily the type of trauma you think (though that's also possible). Here's the thing though...

My heart was racing, face was flushed, the feelings of shame washed over me again. I raced from my desk to the bathroom, glad that it was just around the corner and that I didn't run into anyone on my way. My eyes were filled with tears as I collapsed on the bathroom floor, trying to stifle my cries so no one could hear me.

This used to be a daily occurrence for me. I thought life would always be like that too. And that made living almost unbearable at times. Especially in the midst of my panic attacks. It made no sense, considering I had a beautiful son, loving husband, and a pretty good job. But then, anxiety rarely makes sense.

One day...

When I met Megan, I had no idea how integral she would be to healing my body image, brain fog, and anxiety. Body image was something I'd dealt with since I was 14. The first time I felt shame about my body size, I was in gym class. We had to weigh ourselves for the class, and share our weight with the class. I was one of the three shortest girls in my class. Two of them had tiny body frames and were dancers. I was by no means overweight at the time, but I also wasn't as small as them. I came in at just over 105 lbs, while they were both in the low 90's. I could hear their giggles despite them trying to stifle their laughter. To make matters worse, they were both popular while I was awkward and insecure.

I carried that insecurity for years. You'd think that after carrying a baby, I'd recognize how amazing my body was to grow a human from next to nothing, and nourish that human for an extra 3.5 years after birth. But despite knowing in my brain how strong that made me, my heart wasn't ready to listen. Then Megan started to speak life over me, and things started to change.

Triggered. It's a word we use often in our house these days. But it wasn't always that way. It used to be that when my heart started racing, and I'd feel the panic set in, and the ground felt like it was about to crumble under my feet, that I'd turn to extreme anger, start crying hysterically, maybe hyperventilate, and sometimes even put a hole in a wall or throw things.

It's not something I'm proud of, but it's something that no longer holds shame for me. For years, I had no idea what was happening. I thought I was just angry, and that this was just a meltdown because I was broken. Now I know that these were severe panic attacks that manifested as this blind rage, brought on by past trauma that was never dealt with properly.

Once I learned what was actually going on...

Have you ever felt hopeless about your anxiety? Been frustrated because for whatever reason you can't go see a therapist? Maybe it's your husband who doesn't believe in therapy, or your culture, or maybe insurance won't cover it, or you don't have insurance? Have you ever wondered if you'll ever be able to "get better" and "live a normal life"? I see you, friend!

Not so long ago, my life looked a lot like that too. Not going to a therapist was my own doing, because of the shame I felt (let's please end the stigma that therapy means you are failing!) and because I didn't want to dig into my pain because I felt like if I did, it would be too much and would drown me. I felt hopeless and frustrated, and wondered what the point of life was, if I was always going to be so miserable.

Then, almost miraculously...