Originally Posted at NextLifeNoKids
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I would first like to thank JD Bailey @ honestmom, Allison @ motherhoodwtf and Jill @scarymommy for inspiring me with their amazing honesty which encouraged me to write this.
I’ve dealt with a lot in life and have survived a ton in 34 years. I have faced all sorts of things head on and held on, some times with my knuckles, until these things have worked themselves out in time. I like to think of myself as a strong person and I like to help other people to a fault and often give until the well is dry.
For some reason I suck at asking for help and accepting it on the off chance that I do. If I see you out and about I will reply with my standard “I’m well, and you?” mostly because I’m aware that most people say “How are you?” to be polite and aren’t really invested in the response. The other reason for the standard yada yada is that I am terrified to tell you the truth.
I will chat you up about the weather and about the latest story in the news or reality tv, but what I won’t tell you is that the weather hasn’t affected me much lately because I haven’t been out of the house a whole lot. I won’t tell you that watching the news some days is the most interaction I have with the world outside of dropping Nicholas off at preschool or picking Corinne up from practice. I will keep this to myself out of fear that you will judge, or even worse, try to help me.
I will tell you that I will call you and then I’ll shoot a text instead. I will send you to voicemail when you call me. If I do answer, it will be accidental, but I won’t tell you that. I will fake inflection in my voice or listen in hopes that you’ll have a problem we can talk about. I will not tell you that I’m suffocating over here and wishing that I wanted to talk to or see you. I won’t tell you that if it weren’t for a relationship with God and my amazing husband, I might be sitting in a rubber room somewhere, rocking back and forth, drooling.
I’ve done so much work on myself over the years, and I feel embarrassed that I am struggling like this with all of the tools I have at my feet. I feel pathetic. Don’t worry, I won’t tell you that. I’m much too vulnerable to risk it. Being hyper-vulnerable is awesome.
If we talk, I will joke with you about the “joys of motherhood” and the lack of sleep I’m getting due to nursing through Jordan’s growth spurts or teething. What I won’t tell you is that my postpartum depression is causing terrible insomnia and I’m having trouble sleeping through the night anyway. I won’t tell you this because I don’t want you to think I don’t have my shit together.
I will make plans with you and then act surprised when something suddenly comes up and I can’t show. What I won’t tell you that my postpartum depression has turned me into someone I wouldn’t want to be friends with if I was you. Bringing this chic along to our date is out of the question because she’s a mess and full of fear. This girl takes so long to get ready to leave the house that sometimes we decide it will be easier to just stay home; so I do.
Postpartum depression is a bitch and some days, most days, I feel trapped. I won’t tell you how often I choke down tears or bawl my eyes out on the floor of the shower. I won’t tell you how overwhelmed I feel every day by the most mondane and simple tasks like laundry, or God forbid, shopping. When I fail to do everything I feel like a terrible wife and mother and the guilt feeds the depression, which leads to more isolation etc, etc. Blah blah blah.
I am doing my best, I know that, and I know that you will understand. I know that if I called you right now and let it out that you would listen and I would feel better for a moment. I just won’t. For some reason I can’t bring myself to. I’m dragging myself to therapy every week and sometimes it helps. Other times I just feel worse and it makes the day after (Wednesdays) even more unbearable.
I’m blogging, which seems to help a lot. It allows me to reach out without actually having to, which is awesome. It makes me feel connected to you without fear of being immediately rejected, which is also awesome. Everything is process and I know that this is no different. I know that this too shall pass and that someday I will look back and feel grateful that I got through this too.
Until then…
Poo on postpartum depression.
P.S. One more thing I won’t tell you is how long it took me to work up the courage to actually post this.
Kate Hall says:
Great post! I have some similar fears. I hate the phone. I don’t answer it unless it’s one of four people and often not even then. I hate small talk because I feel like an idiot b/c honestly, I just don’t care. But I feel like I should care, so then I feel guilty. But I’m starting to get to a point where I’m okay with my fears. They are what they are and everyone has them, they’re just different. I’m glad you wrote about this. It can be so therapeutic to get it out. I sometimes can be honest to a fault, just to reduce the feeling that others expect something from me. I want to lower their expectations of me, like if I have to get up in front of people and talk, I tell them I’m scared or suck at it, so they won’t expect much – it helps me calm down. I’d love to be at a point where I just don’t care about other people’s expectations of me, but I’m just not there yet. Getting there, but not there yet.
Sara says:
Thank you so much for sharing this. I feel like at various times in my life, I could have written something similar. I had postpartum depression (not a shocker, since I have regular ol’ depression) but never sought help for it. I said something to my husband once or twice, but never followed up on it. I just lived in a world like the one you described. Even today (almost 3 years postpartum) I avoid talking on the phone – I feel totally awkward and much prefer the slight separation of text. Text gives me a semblance of control – I can decide when I want to respond, give time to how I want to respond, rather than the instant necessity of a live phone conversation.
Frammitz says:
Hug.
Norine says:
Powerful essay. Thank you so much for posting this and for being brave enough to share it. I too have been through two bouts of depression. One so debilitating I couldn’t get off the couch for 10 days, not even to shower. Most recently, I could feel myself spiraling into a depression, and more than a few times mulled the option of taking an “early exit.” Fortunately, I managed to do some things I knew would help to pull myself out of the dive before I got too deep. My ob-gyn put me on Pristiq. After a two-week period of getting acclimated, I felt better. The anxiety pains in my chest have subsided. The ruminations are less. I have more energy to care about … anything. I still have my dips and days of bleak thoughts. But they’re much less frequent or severe. My point: If you can, talk to your doctor about an antidepressant. They’re not a cure-all. But they may be able to give you enough of a leg up so you can climb out of your depression yourself.
Tina S. says:
I, too, suffered from terrible postpartum depression. Other than my husband, I had no support system. I would rather saw off my arm with a toothbrush than ask for help. Thank you for having the courage to post in such an honest way.
Xiomara | Equis Place says:
I know what it’s like to have worked hard to hide my depression from the world. Now, that I talk about my struggle with depression on my blog, it’s a little awkward for me when people want to talk about it in person! But I am so glad, too, that I opened up on my blog. It’s certainly a step forward. I am hoping for the best for you!