On being humbled (part 2: the fall)
My kingdom started to topple the day I got pregnant. I was about six years into my CrossFit journey and Jonathan and I decided it was time to grow our family. It was all exciting and I honestly embraced and enjoyed slowing down during my pregnancy. I had been pushing so hard to maintain control of my spot at the top, it was actually nice to have a bit of a break from all of the pressure. I coached and worked out through my pregnancy. And I fell into another trap - the “you’ll bounce right back” trap. Everyone and their mom (literally so many moms) told me that because I was so fit going into my pregnancy, I was absolutely, without a doubt, 100% going to “bounce back”. I drank that Kool-Aid, and I drank it HARD. I had all these grand plans to show my glorious return on social media - to humbly inspire others of course (gag). It was going to be great and I’d be back to my spot at the top in no time!
Except I didn’t “bounce back” and I wasn’t even close to the top for well over a year postpartum. I had VASTLY underestimated the struggles of motherhood and postpartum life. I ended up having a c-section, had a lot of struggles with breastfeeding (another area that I was so absolutely determined to succeed at that I drove myself crazy), found myself deep in postpartum depression and anxiety, and felt like total shit - both physically and especially mentally - in the gym and as a result in life. Working at the gym felt complicated when I felt so badly about myself.
I spent over a year in a really dark place. In my brain I sometimes refer to it as a year without God. Just as my pride had reached unprecedented levels prior to pregnancy, my self-loathing reached an all-time high in the depths of my postpartum reality, leaving me feeling broken (physically) and shattered (mentally and emotionally). I just didn’t understand how I could be so absolutely in love with my daughter, yet so absolutely hate my present self. All I could see when I looked in the mirror was my forever changed (in a negative way) body. All I felt in the gym was how far behind I was from where I used to be. I felt weak and broken. I felt ugly and undesirable. I felt worthless and unworthy. I knew that a lot of it had to do with my relationship with the gym, but I couldn’t pinpoint what it was that gave the gym so much power over me.
To add to the darkness, or rather preceding it, was the fact that I felt so disappointed in God. So much of my birth, recovery, breastfeeding, and gym experiences had turned out differently than I had hoped for. And rather than pressing into the Lord and allowing him to bring clarity and healing, I all but turned away. I know that I never lost my faith in that time, but every time I would try to take a step in the right direction, something else would happen and I’d snap right back into disappointment, anger, and frustration. I knew somehow the Lord would bring me back to Him, because He’s done so many times in my life, but I truly could not see how. As each month passed and I slipped further into darkness, my hope faded with it.
Shortly after Ellie’s first birthday, I felt another round of depression coming on. Yet again my expectations and reality didn’t matched up. For some reason I thought the one year mark would be magical and I would feel normal by then. Once again, I was mistaken. It was around this time that my boss (our co-owner, not my husband lol) looked me in the eyes and said, “I think you need help.” He could see me drowning and recommended I see a counselor. In some contexts that could be considered a serious insult, but in this case it was a friend handing me a lifeline. I had considered the idea a few times before, but it had been a fleeting thought, nothing serious. But when your boss and friend says you need help, you realize you probably need to get help.
