It’s Time to Romanticize Your Life

To paraphrase the great philosopher Jane Fonda: “It’s never too late to start over, never too late to be happy.” We couldn’t agree more. The older we get, the more we realize that life is a series of curveballs and, as soon as you evolve and learn how to hit that off-speed pitch, a new one gets thrown and the process starts anew. Rinse and repeat. Maybe you’ve entered an incredibly scary new phase of life (ahem, parenthood), are healing from physical or emotional trauma, or simply need an uplifting reason to get out of bed every morning. Whatever it is, we are firm believers in the radical power of reinvention.

I know, you probably groaned when reading that. But before you roll your eyes too hard, hear us out. In no way do we believe that romanticizing your routine by pretending you live on the quirky streets of Stars Hollow or in a perfectly pastel Wes Anderson movie is going to drastically change your life. The idea is not to ignore the often exhausting and dull tasks of adulthood, but rather to lean into gratitude and find little glimpses of magic in the mundane. Here are some small ways we’re making life a bit more special lately. —Lauren Bell Martin and Jess Mayhugh

Doing an eye mask while making coffee. This small effort makes me feel like a beauty influencer, with excellent skin sans the cringe tutorials. 

Listening to an audiobook during my son’s dream feed. I am two kids and many long nights in, and just had this thought come to me the other day. Pregnancy really is cruel to your brain. However, I find myself feeling so disconnected from reading (aka dumb) at this stage of my life. But by adding an AirPod and good book into the quiet mom moments, you really can have it all. 

Taking a bedtime walk with my husband. This works because I live atop a giant hill. As soon as the kids are asleep, my husband and I take a couple minutes to decompress and talk about our day as we walk up and down said giant hill. It feels nice to have a quiet moment to connect and move together.

Ducking into a café during a rainy stroller walk. I really think an old version of me would have been like, “Of course it starts raining just as we get out here for a walk.” But this new version, whoever she is, found the closest café, bought a pastry and a London Fog, and sat outside with my son under an umbrella. Basically, we were in Paris.

Spritzing a shower spray. We told you these were simple. My sweet dad gave me a postpartum bath and body gift box and the spritzes have added a steamy, spa-like quality to my showers.

Making morning and evening playlists. I have a theory that my son doesn’t like to be alone with his thoughts (relatable), so music is pretty much a constant. With the help of my “Daylists” on Spotify, I’ve made an energetic morning playlist and more calming version for bedtime.

Working outside. If it’s nice out, I don’t miss an opportunity to pick up my laptop and baby and work in the backyard. It’s amazing what a little breeze and the sounds of birds chirping can do for the nervous system.

Following through with a skincare routine. I was inspired recently to revamp my skincare regimen. I stuck to the basics—toner, serum, moisturizer, SPF—and chose products with simple ingredients and a reasonable price tag. The newness of it all has me excited to give myself a tiny bit of undivided attention. 

Finding a new signature fragrance. A fragrance is just one of those things that takes a back seat when you smell like stale milk and puréed carrots. But let me tell you, I recently took a stand and bought a travel size of a new scent, and I have never felt more luxurious.

Planting a butterfly bush… or anything, really. Planting anything is a major accomplishment these days. I chose a butterfly bush because it’s easy and makes me feel like I live in a secret magical fairy garden where butterflies are constantly fluttering around me and birds sew my clothes and tie ribbons in my hair. You get it.

Organizing my meds. I really hate the days I somehow space on taking my SSRI and vitamins. Usually it’s because I have them hidden away in a cabinet—out of sight, out of mind—and if one thing goes awry that morning it can completely slip my mind. However, ordering a pretty organizer to sit out in the open allows me to remember and feel more cutesy than elderly.

Wearing actual pajamas. I have always been a big T-shirt sleeper, and there is no shame in that. But it does feel really special to have a lazy weekend morning or Friday night with the newest episode of Dateline and a cozy matching set. Really feels like I got my shit together.

Seven things that made my C-section recovery not as terrible

I’ve had two C-sections and neither were exactly pleasant. As commonplace as they are (and oftentimes the only option for a safe delivery), cesareans are still an extremely invasive surgery. When they’re unplanned, they can be a heartbreaking diversion from what you expected. When they’re emergencies, they can be completely terrifying. Even the planned ones that go as near-to-perfect as possible necessitate a long and painful recovery. But from my experience, there are some practical and fairly inexpensive things you can do to ease the road to healing. —JM

Writer Ayana Lage discusses her experience with postpartum psychosis

There are many motherhood memoirs out there, but Missing Me by Ayana Lage will stop you in your tracks. Days after giving birth to her daughter, Ayana experienced a flood of constant delusions, what she believed to be direct orders from God, and psychotic episodes in the hospital where she was unable to be with her new baby. Eventually, she was diagnosed with postpartum psychosis and was released after an intense regimen of medication and treatment. But it took a long road of reflection to get to where she is today: raising her 5-year-old daughter and year-old son with her husband in Tampa.

Missing Me is a brave and candid memoir that includes excerpts from her journals and clinical notes to paint the full picture of her mental health break. Here, Ayana discusses the symptoms that distinguish psychosis from depression, how her religious background affected her mental health, what about her experience has her parenting differently, and which musician has made the biggest impact on her recovery. –JM

How would you distinguish postpartum psychosis from depression or anxiety?The symptoms are the first place I would start, because someone suffering from postpartum depression is generally not experiencing hallucinations. Maybe they are experiencing big mood swings, but mania, delusions, paranoia—those are things that definitely distinguish it from depression. After someone gives birth, it’s normal to not be yourself because of sleep deprivation and hormones and all those things. But it’s just knowing the line of when it could mean something else. Everyone should know the warning signs of postpartum psychosis—severe depression, rage, OCD—so they know what to look for. With psychosis, it quickly becomes apparent that something is really wrong. 

What do people not understand about infanticide?
A woman who wants to hurt her child is not a monster who needs to be banished from society. And I understand the gut instinct because, obviously, this is something terrible. But I learned while writing and researching for this book that, a lot of times, when mothers harm their children, they’re experiencing delusions that have them thinking that what they are doing is protecting their child. While researching, I read about a woman who had psychosis and not yet been hospitalized for it. Right before she went, her husband found her upstairs with their newborn baby about to throw her out the window because she was hearing that the house was on fire and she saw firemen on the first level waiting to catch the baby. Imagine that you’re in this situation where you don’t know left from right, and your brain is telling you that this is how you protect your child. These are things that can and do happen.

It was a really interesting choice to include your journal entries and clinical notes in the book.
I have a lot of memories from that time, but as you can probably imagine, I wasn’t the most reliable narrator. I still don’t know if some moments in the hospital were real or delusions. I kept these notebooks initially because I couldn’t bear the thought of parting with them. As I was going through it for the first time, I remember thinking, this is a deeply personal thing that I’m sharing and one day I could regret this. But I decided to just follow my gut and include them. Then the hospital records, for me, provided an interesting juxtaposition between my messy, disorganized thought process and then a very clinical explanation of what was happening and what I was doing.

Were you ever worried about people’s perceptions of you changing after telling your story?
Funnily enough, I did not fear judgment from strangers. I didn’t spend a lot of time on that. What was much harder for me was talking to my loved ones about what I experienced. In the book, I dive into a lot of religion and how that played into my psychosis. So, having the people that I grew up with in the church and my family read that was scarier to me than a million strangers reading it. But I found relief in sharing the story publicly because I was fixated on how I’d acted publicly before being hospitalized. I thought, If I share all these details with the world, then anyone who remembers what I was saying back then will be able to piece it together. It has been a coping mechanism.

Can you discuss how your religious background affected your mental health?
I have a complicated relationship with faith and religion. I had all these memories of growing up in this very energetic church where God was moving and God was healing and all these wonderful things were happening, and I didn’t feel like I was receiving any of that. I was dealing with undiagnosed mental health conditions and I received no relief, even though I spent a lot of time praying and asking for it. In a lot of ways, my brain gave me what I’d always wanted when I started experiencing these delusions, because they were almost all religious in nature. There was a small part of me that was always captivated by this idea of God speaking. It’s interesting that that’s where my mind went when things started to unravel.

What is your relationship to religion today?
I still go to church and I consider myself to be spiritual. But it’s so different from what it once was. I regard it with a level of weariness because, when I hear Christian music, it reminds me of me running down the halls of the hospital screaming lyrics to worship songs. When I see the Bible, it reminds me of me trying to rewrite it. So there are all of these triggers now tied up in this thing that was once very familiar and comfortable to me. It’s been almost six years [since my psychosis], and I’m still trying to figure out how to navigate that. I don’t think I’ll ever be fully able to separate religion from what happened to me.

What would you say to someone with mental health struggles who is nervous to have a baby?
Anyone who knows me or talks to me for five minutes knows I’m a very anxious person, and I tend to ruminate and overthink and always go to the worst-case scenario. So I completely empathize with anyone who is pregnant or trying to get pregnant and is thinking about all the terrible things that could happen to them. Educate your partner and your loved ones and talk to your doctor. I had another baby after my postpartum psychosis and my psychiatrist was single-handedly the reason I got through it. Obviously I’m biased, but I think therapy is never a bad place to be.

What should change when it comes to the treatment of postpartum psychosis?As I’ve become more involved in advocacy and awareness, I’ve learned that in the UK, mother-baby units are standard for women who are dealing with psychiatric issues in a lot of places. So you are able to have your baby with you. Obviously, in some situations, you are supervised or the baby may not be spending the night. But you’re able to see your child. For me, not seeing my daughter was a big part of the trauma. It’s hard to parse out what caused what, but not being able to see my baby deeply impacted me.

There needs to be a space for someone to be experiencing psychosis and acting strangely and maybe being a little bit embarrassed and for that to be okay. I had a generally good experience with the nurses and doctors who I dealt with, but I vividly remember some mocking me. In those moments, I was very paranoid. I was very revved up. But looking back, I had a nurse who was like, ‘Yeah, I believe you. I believe everything you’re saying’ and I was so excited, like, Finally someone saw it, and then I realized she was was basically fucking with me. It’s easy to laugh off someone who’s dealing with psychosis and exhibiting those symptoms. But it’s important to understand that no one wants to be in this scenario and, when you’re in it, you have no control over anything.

How do you think you’ve parented differently because of all you went through? 
After the birth of my son, I was very, very anxious about it happening again, and I was hyper-analyzing anything that I said or did or felt. I’ve never gotten that blissful postpartum experience that a lot of people talk about, where you’re able to just be with your baby and experience this lovely thing. At the same time, I would take that anxious experience any day, in comparison to what I went through with my daughter. I’m more appreciative of the mundane. I was so grateful I got to be with my son after his birth. Like, yes, I was feeling a lot, but I was able to hold my baby. That gratitude has changed me for the better.

As a parent, I am vigilant when it comes to mental health—maybe to an unhealthy extreme. I could see myself, if my child is having a bad day or dealing with something serious, which thankfully hasn’t happened yet, be like, “Okay, let’s get her diagnosed!” I have to remind myself that it’s okay for a kid to be a kid. I’m trying to take things piece by piece, to compartmentalize, and not feel like I need to immediately act if my child is exhibiting anxiety. 

I know we’ve covered some heavy topics, but also I noticed you’re a Noah Kahan fan. What has his music meant to you? 
This could be my longest answer of all. [Laughs] To say I’m a Noah Kahan fan is an understatement. Actually, I haven't told anyone this because it’s so embarrassing, but in his new song “American Cars,” he reads off a license plate number. And I actually just requested to change my license plate to that. My husband was like, “Are you sure?” And I was like, “I think I am!” Like, why not? Life is too short. But, yeah, I first connected with his music when I was in a weird place mentally. I found so much value in how raw and real and clever his songs are. I never really heard an artist express themselves that way. I’m seeing him this August, and I went to his Tiny Desk Concert last month. It was transcendent.

What do you hope people take away from the book and what has the reaction been like? 
The first time I wrote about postpartum psychosis was three years ago and, at that point, I felt very overwhelmed because people were sharing their deeply personal stories with me and I didn’t know what to do with that. I barely felt equipped to handle what I experienced, let alone to make room for them. That taught me that I’m able to be empathetic and have conversations, but can also be honest if something is triggering. I had a stranger message me an article about a woman who killed her child. Normally, I am so nonconfrontational, but I said please never send me anything like this again.

For this book, I haven’t heard from a ton of people who have had postpartum psychosis specifically, but I have had other people with mental health issues in general that find it relatable. My hope is the book can be a balm for anyone who needs it—whether they’ve gone through psychosis, experienced religious deconstruction, had birth trauma, struggled with body image, any of the things I talk about. Hopefully they walk away with something to help them heal.

“I gave my 4-year-old son a Babybel cheese in the car and he said, ‘I’m just eating the peel, too’ and he ate the entire combo—red wax and all. I was horrified and still am.” —Folly reader Carla D. 
[A quick Google revealed that the wax is food-grade and nontoxic.]