Fake it till you make it. I’ve always kind of despised that sentiment for its implication that only through disingenuousness will anyone be able to make others happy or comfortable. I prefer to see people as they are, warts and all; it’s only when I know the whole story that I’m able to form an opinion about a person or situation. However, I’m coming to see now that faking it might not necessarily be a bad thing.
Over the past two months or so I’ve navigated the hills and valleys of postpartum depression recovery and dealt with a string of relapses mitigated only by bright days full of my children’s laughter and the smell of my home cooking. I see now that fakery may be the only thing getting me through this difficult time. When I wake up in the morning to the sounds of my youngest son crying for me, I don’t want to get him out of his crib. I really, really don’t. I want to pull the covers over my head and sleep. But I pretend I’m a good mom, and I trudge to his room and open the door. And when I do, his crying stops immediately, and I’m greeted by his sunny giggles and the squeak of his mattress’ springs as he bounces up and down in giddy anticipation. I fake it, then I make it: His obvious pleasure at seeing me is my reward for pretending I’m having the time of my life.
The last thing I’ve wanted to do these past few weeks is clean my house, and many days I just am not able to summon the energy. Even on the days I can call up some strength, I still don’t want to clean. But knowing that I’ll feel better if my house isn’t a mess, I go through the motions of housewifery: I sweep, I wash, I fold, I dust, I straighten, I cook. And before I know it, my husband is home, and for all my pretending I am gifted with the relief on his face when he walks in the door and sees that I haven’t been in bed all day.
And the exercise. Oh, the exercise. I know it’s one of the best ways to pull myself out of any funk I may be in. But just thinking of all the work that goes into getting to the gym is enough to make me have an anxiety attack: 1) Decide on the best time to go, 2) Call the gym’s daycare to schedule an appointment, 3) Negotiate naptimes and such around the appointment so the kids aren’t hungry or tired when it’s time for the gym, 4) Get myself and the kids ready, make sure they are fed before we go, 5) Load up the car and drive there, 6) Actually do the working out part, 7) Get kids from daycare and try not to pass out while carrying my 30-pound son up the stairs to my condo. All this is assuming that it doesn’t snow, or the kids aren’t sleeping when it’s time for our appointment, or that the daycare isn’t full at the time I want to go.
Even though on my bad days a trip to the gym might as well be a trip up Mount Everest, knowing that going to the gym will at least, if nothing else, eat up two hours of my day, I make the effort to go — even though I don’t want to. And when I’m driving home all sweaty and tired, I smile as the endorphins rush and I realize that I have made something of that day, that I didn’t waste it lying on the couch. It’s funny that to most people going to the gym is just a part of their routine and for me it’s an act of God, but whatever — on the days I get to the gym I feel like I’m going to beat this monster. I feel as though I have beat the odds (which I pretty much create in my own head with the PPD and the anxiety and so on) and done something that I set out to do, even though it was difficult. The sense of accomplishment does wonders for my fragile ego.
So I’ll keep on faking it. Truth is, I only really have to fake it for a few minutes. Because whatever it is I’m trying to get done that day — whether it’s taking a shower, or being a good mom, or getting in a workout — my brain eventually follows my body. I might start out a fraud, but within no time, I’m the real deal.
This makes so much sense to me. I've had some really good days in the last 4 weeks since I gave birth…productive, "up" days. It made the difficult days even harder b/c I felt like they were set backs or failures. Thanks for helping me see how we can have both within PPD and how a *fake* start can lead to a *real* good day.
My fake start—actually leaving the house w/ a 1 year old and a 1 month old — will come later on this AM. For now, it's a nap.
What I never know, though, is what's the difference between depression (wanting to go back to bed by 10 am) and new/young motherhood exhuastion (wanting to go back to bed by 10am)?? I hate that I don't know the difference when it comes to my difficult days or my "let's just stay in our pjs all day" days. Is it PPD or just "normal" motherhood? If I never know the difference, how will I know when I'm getting better?
Heidi–
I'm not sure about everyone else, but when it comes to myself, I know the difference because when I'm tired, I'm just tired. But when I'm depressed, I don't want to do anything, and sometimes that manifests itself as fatigue. But it's more the complete lack of motivation that makes me tired, rather than the physical aspect of new motherhood.
Does that even make sense?
Keep up the good work. Four weeks?! I remember those days, even though they're kind of a blur. The fact that you can write cohesive sentences seems like a good sign to me. 🙂
Great article 🙂 For me faking it fits into two categories. For survival – getting the child out of the crib, feeding,, clothing her and making sure that I was surviving – I let my existing biological mothering instinct take over. I knew it wouldn't fail me (had a totally mama bear experience day 4 of motherhood) and that relieved some of the pressure, I could just turn off mentally and go through the motions. As for faking the "good mother – as defined by society and its ridiculous pressures" part, that I think was detrimental for me. I didn't seek out help until month 15 post partume. I kept that part of me hidden from my husband and family. Now that I'm pregnant again and recovered from my first bought of PPMDs, I am loud and vocal about what I experienced because I can't handle another potentially isolating experience. I like your piece about "Truth is, I only really have to fake it for a few minutes. Because whatever it is I’m trying to get done that day — whether it’s taking a shower, or being a good mom, or getting in a workout — my brain eventually follows my body. I might start out a fraud, but within no time, I’m the real deal." I'm going to keep that in mind if and when the PPMD monster comes to live in my life again. Thanks again for your wonderful insight AND vocalization of the PPMD experience. It helps a LOT!
I really liked this perspective. Thanks for posting this.
As right now I have trouble cleaning up the house too, I am going to try your method, although I really do lack the discipline. I have good days when I can tell myself to do something, and others when I just wallow. Still, this may work if I focus on your mantra 🙂
Incidentally I wonder if you or anyone else knows if Sophie of Sophie in the mooonlight has made her blog intentionally by invitation only, or is a mistake? I haven't been able to read the last few ones.
Unfortunately the two types of exhaustion you mention look a lot alike, don't they? I supposed the way I would look at it, if it were me, is by considering what other symptoms you have. Aside from the exhaustion, which could just be part of the baby not sleeping, what else is going on in your life that might indicate PPD? Also, can you sleep whenever the opportunity is available to you?
YES!!! Great post!!! This is the essence of what therapists refer to as "Cognitive Behavioral Therapy." Breaking the cycle is so important! Good work, all!
I used to hate the phrase "fake it til you make it", too. However, I realize in hindsight how important my faking enjoying motherhood and being "up" must have been to my child's sense of security and well-being when I was ill. The benefits of of this attitude and way of behaving were positive for me and L. For me, once I started feeling better it seemed more natural to play, dance, and be silly when I had been doing it for months, albeit without much enjoyment on the inside. There is something to be said of living your way into believing something. In my opinion, this is one of those times (rare as they are) when not being perfectly honest can actually be a a blessing.
I couldn't agree more with "fake it until you make it"…That seems to be what I have been doing since I was diagnosed with PPD almost 2 years ago.. I pray that one day I will be back to myself and the faking will just be a nightmare behind me…Thanks for sharing, I can always relate to your posts…..
Thanks!
I, for one, don't even call it "exercise". It conjures up much of what you mentioned; finding a sitter, driving across town, getting my things together etc etc
Instead I say I'm 'taking action' or tell myself to "Get Moving". It reminds me that once I start I'll feel great, without all the baggage that comes with 'exercise'.
And you know, some days, it's not the greatest idea to get moving. There are some health issues where exercise can just be too much on the body and you really gotta listen and slow down and rest.
The hard part is discerning which it is.
Thanks for this. It's a good reminder that the first few minutes are the hardest.
I think the implications of the statement should be put into context. For a woman who is suffering PPD, the symptoms of which MIGHT be alleviated or altered by a change in behavior, this statement MAY be appropriate. For a woman suffering PTSD, PP psychosis, or some other unknown PPMD, perhaps it should not be so casually thrown around.
I am sensitive to this particular statement because it was the "sage wisdom" provided to me by my MW when I was begging for help. I was suffering from PTSD and I did not know how to fake not having a nervous breakdown that was occurring.
I still hate that statement.