I have suffered from depression for years. After a diagnosis at 14, I've struggled to find ways to cope and medications to help. After the Mac truck that was anxiety hit me at about 18, I thought I couldn't handle any worse. Rock bottom.
Lol nope!
I have a small degree in psychology, so I know that women who already suffer from clinical depression have a higher chance of suffering from post-partum depression. So my already horrible depression worsened. I didn't think it was possible. But it was. The proof was in the...fact that I didn't enjoy anything. I lost weight fast and kept it off. Let me tell you what the best diet plan is: be super depressed, therefore blocking your ability to enjoy food. You literally eat when your body says, "if you don't feed me soon, you might pass out."
So, now my son is 2 years old and I found a medication that is helping. I hope that it will continue to help until I can rebuild some neural pathways that are much healthier than my current ones. For example, yesterday something bad made me frustrated. When I was depressed, that would be something I fixated on: I'm frustrated, I'm frustrated, I'm frustrated. Then it would increase: I'm mad, I'm upset, the whole day is the worst.
But instead I told myself, "I'm frustrated, that was annoying. What can I do about it? Well obviously I need to find a healthy outlet for frustration. I feel like punching someone in the throat. Oh, that's even more annoying, etc." So my day wasn't the best, but before I used to think, THIS IS THE WORST, and now I think, IDEA: PUNCHING BAG!
Currently, I am upset. I laughed a couple of days ago, genuine laughter where I actually felt happy, for the first time in two years. And food tastes fucking delicious! Working out makes me feel accomplished and satisfied. But...
I MISSED the JOY of experiencing a true bond with my son. I played, I tickled, I tried to make him feel loved, but something in me wasn't letting me really feel it. For two years. I want to cry. I want to cry for him, because he deserved a mommy that was better than I could be. I want to cry because I missed so much in his life because I couldn't cope. And now, I want to get every last drop while I can. Because sometimes, a switch flips, and the medication no longer helps.
God, I hope it doesn't stop. I don't want to be HER; I want to be ME. I want to know and love and experience with my son. Please, just let this last [you know, just to whoever up there is listening].
