As soon as the Warrior Mom Conference was announced I knew I had to go and bought a ticket the minute they were available. The few moments of doubt that I had were quickly silenced by a visceral knowing that I needed to be with these women, my people, my fellow Warrior Moms. Some of these women I had known online since I first realized I was spiraling down again after my youngest was born, 4 years ago. Getting to know them through social media, participating in #ppdchat, and reading Postpartum Progress, helped me get the right diagnosis and helped me get better treatment.
This past weekend I got on a packed bus, navigated myself and my suitcase through the steaming subway and emerged from the underground of Boston into the arms of the most beautiful, brave group of women I have ever had the gift of knowing.
It wasn’t easy. It was full of joy and emotions and deep truths. I will be processing the gifts and struggles of this weekend for quite some time. I feel most called to speak my truth, finally. Not just here in my tidy corner of the internet, but out loud, out there, in my life. I need to tell my story for myself, as part of my healing, and for other women, so that they may know that there is hope, that they are Warriors, and that we are in this together.
Though the truth is, before this weekend, I didn’t really feel authentic calling myself a Warrior Mom most of the time. I’ve come a long way… a very long way… but there’s a part of my brain (a very obnoxious part of my brain) that tells me I don’t get to call myself a Warrior Mom until I’m there.
But where is “there”? This weekend showed me where “there” is.
Right here. Right now.
Even though I wanted to quit, really quit, many times, I’m still here. I’m still in this fight.
I am a Warrior Mom.
And so are you.